Word For/ Word: A Journal of new writing

Kaethe Schwehn

The Balding Snuffer Extinguishes a Single Square of Joy

[ ] sings pink collar. Like two sticks scraping to make a fire [ ] stitched to the top of a hill. [ ] sways gray rags across the floor, spears a carrot smooth as an embryo. Rooms spill into [ ]. Fire truck, ladder up in the rain, [ ] scythes the air. Single bra, lace furrows long as tiger tongues [ ] goes on folding. [ ] the green moon tomorrow. [ ] a thousand icons in the brink. [ ] the Minnow Who Tracks Invisibility Through the City.

Moon unspools its [ ] light, an epileptic banging at the gates. [ ] washes off her face inside a trough. Behind incontinent stars, [ ] trains coupling. [ ] sweeps below a spider plant. Sweat stains darken like celestial rabbits. The porcelain beasts arrive. I buy a hat to hold [ ] rolls of chin. Every carnivorous thought, every Aleppo, every un-aired lung. Inside the last tent, [ ] rises on a bed of nails, the darkness of my country held within her.