by Erin Harrison
Indiana Winter
weeping winters sin
when Sunday sunshines
birds mock
clothes cling to bare bones
and shoes shiver.
hens fall into
frozen ponds,
rent arrears,
nestled in forgotten feathers.
Polluted coke on rocks
red-bellied pops
heartdrops
lay bare
fleshmouthed and freshly fucked
She grew up
I grew down down I
found protection
in shadow’s skin
Ruled over purple,
dim skies molasses
swamps called me
Queen; adorned me with
warmth as a thick tar coat
Cosseted daughter of
darkness. Eyes forged by
hot licking anger
She met me at the bottom
blooming
burning
bridging gaps
marked by millenniums of
stolen mournings She
weeps the winter from my bones
****