AnnMarie Eldon

leaning curve

her lap is a sailor drought
notable for compassgrass

after childbirth for three days
her legs together bound to

stop the lattice blood work
her knots dustbowl antics

she climbs maidenhead fern
steps progresses jacob’s

ladder stern wanderings
turn aft forebodings entire

botanies dirt trapped between
thighs and each hair a cheap

genealogy her no a lost shinepin
her skin sewn godless beaches

rimed by tideless tides her spurge
face her irises moons at a new

year eclipse she places a pinch
a’rotpeppar upon her bellyfur

lungfish spew chickpea millet
mix dead stars onto stillborn

surf and her husband cuts her
for his her-sperming next cum

time her waist is a mangle
for sweatressed defers and

every Sunday a bower fog
shall confuse her arm rigging

into a readable constellation
bogripe and cured for frigging