Poetry Issue 15

   Issue #15 : July-December 2011

Kerri Webster



Against Kenosis


      1.

      And so it came to pass that time was only a tent

      we might unzip and crawl out from.

      And there by the lake of burnt and silver trees

            I vowed   Hurt me.

            And the world said   How would you like it.


      2.

      Let the lungs be pods in their filthy
      rasping alley.


      3.

      The boy who has done impossible harm
      sews a bracelet around my wrist, groove
      into bone.

      Do you feel it?


      4.

      Dog on the riverbank: his
      name? The way the river
      smelled?
      Love lands on my tongue.


      5.

      The weeping and
      the peppermint;
      the deer
      in the stand of charred
      firs; the sound
      of the breathing tank.