*
ANNA AND THE RABBITS
Anna wanted a hospital. Wanted a handgun and a
shooting range, the target to be a grey wolf turning blue,
dressed in grandma’s britches. She disobeyed her mother
seven times a day, but never once ran out of wishes.
Wished for no more medication, without which she
limblessly fell, tumbled into rabbits serving tea, chewing
the hems off of her dresses. She disobeyed each rabbit,
all seven of them one by one. They degowned and uglied
ugly Anna. How like a muskox she bellowed. How like
the beautiful girl in the beehive she was not. Her blue
blood turning rusted flintlock green.
*
ANNA TAKES ON WATER
She shook her presents vigorously, wore flowers on her
face. Her skeleton slouched alone at the party. The rest
of the lions chewing raw meat. Acted like a cat in a
cobbler’s shop, croaking. Moon rocks tumbled from the
bathroom sink. Swore she kept two diamondbacks in her
bottom dresser drawer. She was as sick as a boat. Sunk
in a circus fire. Could remove her arms and legs, roll in
the leaves. A Polaroid found in her pocketbook of an
Eskimo slipping on ice. Coughed little pony coughs
when bored with conversation. Though I thought she
spoke in terms of ghosts, when she came through clearly
I heard her say Where will the space trash go when there
is no more space. Her brain clapped open in a
thunderstorm.
*
ILK journal 