elysabeth faslund Poems

Three. Gun. Shots.

I knew my wolf
Would run
...

Rattle tagging twigs, branches
Tumbling twisted trunks
Loose from
Crispy flippin leaves...
...

Lady of the Lake, your petticoats are better nets,
Bitter nets, finer woven, hoarding.
Wear robes, wear plaster, with a child held high.
The halo is tarnished. Waves, sand, will polish
...

In each Beast of the Earth,
A sky Angel...
Loving the Beast, renting
Heaven.
...

Whatcha gonna do
That you haven't
Before?
...

Did I mention dear Bellvue...
She was part of the proceedings
With a one-sentence thwack! ...
Where the garbage vat
...

Even the hollow reed voices across sand, dry plains,
Startling lilt, notes we can remember.
We can forget. Forgetting is our salvation,
Not reincarnation.
...

All angels have blonde hair...
Ever notice that?
My spike heels don't get caught in my earrings...
Only my hair.
...

I walk with you by water flowing softly, quietly.
Rippling onward as entwined with it's own
Music as our hands, folded around each other.
...

Storms of Global Warming send us to Space.
Storms of overpopulation...to Mars.
Humanity will settle strange planets...
Remembering their kind ran the gauntlet
...