by Jesse Anger
We’ve all got bones under our skin—
Nakedness deceives as much
as mirror-masks and such
disguises. The soft intonation.
pitched light, lie these restless bones,
my own. A broken home,
a silence quickened in the room.
The cold window moon.
My inner space, the keep of fear,
the ringing in my ear.
Wired to my naval’s wheel,
under towed, pitched and reeled
and spindled down into the hold—
God, these bones are old.
The cold reply resurfaces,
the skull-hollow thing
that seeks to void, and sucks to dine—
The still-born alive.
Here is where it all begins.
Exhume them. Hang them in
rings. String them into chimes.
Remember them sometimes.
Far Too Close by Jesse Anger is a composite of Blasted Tree originals and previously published work. For information about the publication history of Far Too Close, please read the Acknowledgements (Acknowledgements & Thanks).
ISBN [Digital]: 978-0-9938364-7-3
Cover Design by Kyle Flemmer - Cover Image by Dimitri Castrique