Winter 2011

Table of Contents - Vol. VII, No. 4


Poetry    Fiction    Translations    Reviews   

Nathan Ingham



After Anger Pit

Nasty habit begets nasty weather
I look up and everything is brown
The buildings reflecting the purple-dull sky
Twist this knob until the water is boiling
      you know, that’s how they strip feathers from birds
When they want them bare
The feeling settles in my stomach
State of body reflecting state of mind
Stand there, one foot a crescent on the drain
Leg hairs all pointing down
The water doesn’t boil enough
Doesn’t peel skin from my ears
like a bad B-movie acid rain
I sit, coiled, closer to the drain
      that is what you do
      In a shower like this
But find something unexpected
Not the cathartic fetal state
Just a curling of my limbs
And the water running down the white walls
Pooled where my thigh blocks it from egress
I trace it but feel nothing
Twist the knob and stand again
Dry my feathers off
Though they ache against my skin


© Nathan Ingham


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Poetry    Fiction    Translations    Reviews   

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