Panties Left in a Cemetery —Erika Brumett
Their fabric is latticed, delicate,
crotch-to-the-sky beside a grave.
Twisted waistband. Little satin bow.
The threading webs, red in sunshaft,
mauve in the shade of the stone.
Someone loved here. Moaned below oaks,
groped above bones. Who lifted hips,
tasted lace, dropped soft cloth on clover?
Did light sift, moths flit, teeth pluck elastic?
Maybe mourners coupled, thrusted through grief.
Or did kids ditch math class, come
lusting down dew paths, find this patch?
Stillness, tall grass, fountains crying lichen.
Just children, eagerlings fingering
bottle caps, loss, bra straps.
At a glance, the undies are a doily,
a hankie from a wake. Wadded,
forgotten, they rot where crosses
moss and cherubs watch. Where daisies
lie flat, crushed by small deaths.
(This poem is from bonehouse, a chapbook published by Green Linden Press.)
David Axelrod
Devon Balwit
Hugh Behm-Steinberg
Erika Brumett
Jennifer Bullis
Lauren Camp
Greg Casale
Laura Da'
Denise Duhamel
Alejandro Escudé
Jeff Ewing
Michael Hettich
Dennis Hinrichsen
Safia Jama
Eleanor Kedney
Kasandra Larsen
Patrick T. Reardon
Matthew Schnirman
Maureen Seaton
Jeffrey Skinner
J.R. Solonche
Carolyn Williams-Noren