Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Twenty-nine
Summer 2012
Search Party
Connie Post

Send out the cadaver dogs

Send them every day
until you think you know me

but you will not find me here
in this field of dry grass

I started dismembering myself
years ago

my arms belong to countries
where other wars still burn

my legs belong to the ocean
where salt is marrow
full of cord and knotted blood cells

my teeth are stuck in Stonehenge
chipped and shaved down
in the prongs of slanted history

Autumn will come and go
you will find only small bone fragments,
on this fallow clearing of land

you will find small trinkets that
look like a broken mind
but you will discard them as you did me

at night
the dogs will eat quietly on your back porch
sleep and dream about
this death I could not give you

About Connie Post

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