ceptahceptaheye frame little bugsfrigid snowed on under
thethecepttheahuhcept waitingcept apples
conceptconningcept she saidwant

and grabgrab outtwo faces in a handthis part wantand
part fingersblank faceput in holding

hands inin the pocket of athe man of athe woman of a soft
lapa dog licka clothes pinin the garden found as the shape
of woodtoe stickerand the cept in the walkingoh

and the mud on that toehesitating to crythe word for look
methe wasp murdererthis little waiting and nothing
more in sweet perfumesof motherings

this wherecept and ohmeeting in a bushlooking for the bush
disagreeingtill the red coats the seaweed conchand blowing
blustering morethis

raspberry for pieflat on platesbefore
the mixed reasonswith sugarfastand no more murderings
thisfor you cept

going homecept deathcept waiting on the silvery bowly edge
for nextin someone else'swho's moving characters?her in
a roomin itlike eggsor a half cup till

ceptthe beebuzzes till it's pushedto watch the sound
scatteringmany daysloosing the first music

finally for fathersto compare the thirst for lime soda
so that nickel always clenchedand going


--Claire Blotter

read the author's Working Notes

go to "Before Her Tongue Were"

go to this issue's table of contents