| Arsenic Lobster poetry journal |
Issue Thirty-nine Winter 2015 |
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| Spiders and Jam Kristin LaTour I don’t blame you for filling my bed with arachnids’ hairy bodies; most ran when I turned back the sheets. They reminded me of how I refuse to speak out when I see a child slapped as a scolding, a dog tied up in the sun. Remind me again why I stay, why calamine lotion reminds me of flowers. How when the tv shows a bloodstain in an Afghani market, my toes twitch, I smell dirt and taste rain. What could possibly take me away from here and the foothills? Certainly not spiders, thirst, a red hand print on my cheek. Maybe rain. Maybe blood. Maybe the jam choking my throat. |
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