from “Kingdom of Trick, Kingdom of Drug”

by Inka Essenhigh

In bed, we keep combat boots on, scrape our shins
climbing each other – which is to say: I dream I’ve dragged a tree
into bed with me. Bark against my back, roots
poking out from beneath the sheets like feet. Each hour,
another season. It pushes cherry blossoms against my closed eyes,
then just as soon burns red leaves like autumn.

Read the rest of the poem over at Connotation Press.

 

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One response to “from “Kingdom of Trick, Kingdom of Drug”

  1. Hi Harv & Mary (Andrew Llew here) It could be that Sue’s got the wrong title and/or the wrong poet – I pretty much lekood through all Hunt’s collections yesterday & it’s not one of the well known “Dad” poems anyway. Feeling is that it appeared in the Listener & was maybe 6 or so lines long.But I have a suspicion that the funeral is past now so either they found it, or another suitable one.Let’s hope I have no more need for funeral poems for a while. It gets tiresome.

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