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The haystack of blood, fly swarms
To go to the scarlet field
And find rusty keys, small animal bones
To look up and see tiny hands coming out
From every cloud, every parachute
There are millions, sucking from the sugar
And the wet dirt and the bad blood
Curdled, unprotected—a tired disco
Asking and
Alone.
just give me your throat
I will let it grow inside my belly and speak to me
just give me your weathered hands
I will soak them in lanolin and hang them out to dry
Just give me the strands of your hair
I will weave them into a home
just give me your tongue
I am thirsty in the flickers of nightmares
And I need something soft to calm me
i see roads to train tracks littered
with cheap wire hangers by the hundreds
moving slowly in the wind, i see spheres of three colors
interchageable in the grass room where martinis keep pouring
all night.
the men stomp their feet,
hungry
and as the night goes on the stomps grow louder and louder
until they are all you can hear, until you can hear nothing else
Olivia Kennett is a warrior poet, visual artist and musician living in New Hampshire. She has worked as a production assistant, baker, and model. Now she makes most of her money peddling vitamins and wonder-cures to upper-middle class America. In her spare time she counts bones, picks apples, watches the water, and identifies birds. She has self-published three books of poetry — 24 Pygmy Poems, Cave of Fur, and Seeing the Glass Ball Grow Milky. She plans to continue writing and creating. You can purchase her poetry books and art at OliviaKennett.etsy.com. Her best friend is a dog named Ginkgo.