Tanner Lee
under my fingernails I write
what loves these bones—
skin that crisps like a warzone
my string dreams
crouch in heat
for what it’s worth I’ll reach under
the curtain to touch something new
a mouse dances in a sticky trap until
a boy approaches with a hammer
what kind of sound reaches ears full of blood?
I know what it’s like to be instantly smashed
after the tremble do I remember
the slow burn of morning
orange peels and strawberry seed crunch
my hair swings wet with every step
inch by hammered inch
I beg the confession
of these poems
take my fingers and press them
dead.
Tanner Lee lives in Ogden, Utah. His writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Hobart, West Trade Review, Weber: The Contemporary West, The Comstock Review, and Entropy Mag. He is an assistant blog manager at The Blueshift Journal. Find him on twitter @heytannerlee.
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