Erin Suurkoivu Poems

I hardly journey there anymore.

Those ruins are far and distant,
Far and distant, and black and grey.
...

This is nothing of what the bards sing-
A desire for code name Heroin
Or a crash-landing in Sicily
That didn't break the moon.
...

There is nothing to pinpoint
Of the strange beast.
Only images,
...

War paint I always found unnecessary:
Gloss for manicured lipstick commercial princesses
Not of my kind.
...

a thousand restless fingers
pluck along my nerves
and crawl swarming bees
over my flesh
...