Catherynne M. Valente Poems

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Glass, Blood, And Ash

Please, silk-​​sister, do this thing for me.

I do not want to sit on that broad-​​backed horse,
or smell his skin, grassy and hot as boiled husks,

Past The Rivers

I sat as if a statue,
and Hades brushed my hair
with a comb of iron and asphodel.

The Secret Of Being A Cowboy

Did I ever tell you I used to be a cowboy?
It’s true.
Had a horse name of Drunk Bob

The Descent Of The Corn-Queen Of The Midwest

Hades is a place I know in Ohio,
at the bottom of a long, black stair
winding down I-76 from Pennsylvania,
winding down the weeds

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