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Timewave Zero

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Seven Signs You Might Be a Poet’s Muse

by Rebecca Lu Kiernan

You exist because I scrimshaw your name
Into the blast-fractured Chokeberry tree
With a wolf’s fang,
And program my robots
To dispose of the poison sap
Before it bleeds
Into our conversant garden
Of snowdragon, shamrock, amaranth.

You return safely to Earth
Because I scratch out alien stars
And rearrange them,
Bend the complicit fabric
Of space and time
With an arrogant smile
When you spin
Galaxies offcourse.

You love because I leave shark teeth,
Volcano ash, nuclear launch codes
Under your tie-dyed pillow.

You are an addict
Because you are at risk
Of becoming poetry
Every time you are inside me.

You feel cuckolded by every word I wrote before we met.

You survive because I deflect the asteroid
With the muscles of my tongue,
Unravel the war with an untranslatable whisper,
In the angelic octave that entrances

You are sorry
You tore my red fishnet stocking
With your teeth,
Fainted when you came,
Concussed yourself on the ceiling fan
And were so artfully framed,
You woke up on Death Row
For drowning a mermaid.

What alibi am I?

What tamarisk tea
Will crush your immortal regret?
A day without a thought of me?
It hasn’t happened yet!


Uncharted Worlds
Uncharted Worlds
by Rebecca Lu Kiernan


Terrestrial Acres
Terrestrial Acres
by Rebecca Lu Kiernan


A Woman of Few Illusions
A Woman of Few Illusions
by Bett Appel and
Rebecca Lu Kiernan
chalk and acrylic

Copyright © 2013 by Rebecca Lu Kiernan

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