Hybrid Poetry by Erin M. Bertram
In August, in New Orleans, in love, the heat is animal, the scent of magnolia hangs in the air the way smoke fills a crowded bar.
In August, in New Orleans, in love, the heat is animal, the scent of magnolia hangs in the air the way smoke fills a crowded bar.
How is madness inherited? What are the fine lines that connect us?
The gargoyles test their wings. You turn to me, your eyes like undertow.
Why not Wonder Woman Camp? Bullet-proof bracelets, a lasso, amazing feats....
Let the rain spell out a truth on the tin roof above our sleeping heads
swimming laps/the pool full/of unspoken words
Oh, but she did not love Bees. She felt no desire for honey.
In the stillness of morning’s ascent/snow falls upon the trees
Listen, God:/You might have thought twice/before talking tough to Eve
The woman who works at Woolworth's/slips a chip of beard into her purse.