Three Poems From Hayden’s Ferry Review Issue 48

Deposit a theory in the gutter, bank or mud.
Haunt that choice.  Invest in a voice

                  …In this scene, I am not
Li Mu Bai. I am the sword:

When bent, bend. When pricked and injected with contrast, bite
down on the scent in your mouth like skunk’s sour. Janine, come to.