Lapping lapping as if god is a second stomach.
Is lichen a moss you ask if you kiss his fist are you basking
in an aftermath?
I answer, Like my father,
afraid to step foot in a supermarket.
In the parking lot
In the hit of my haw
In the pit of my lightning boat
I tape garbage bags to the windows
and am given take home pictures
of my bones. It is my anniversary
and the dead have perfect hands
with which to match
their memory to the grass.
Did you think you would feel it in your head he said
when you were a photograph?
A white cricket clicked shhhhhh pity made you.
(my necklace in your mouth)
This is how I retrieve a life.
Marni Ludwig is the author of Pinwheel, selected by Jean Valentine for the 2013 New Issues Poetry Prize and Little Box of Cotton and Lightning, chosen by Susan Howe for a 2012 Poetry Society of America Chapbook fellowship. She lives in Athens, GA, and in Brooklyn, NY.
Kristine Morfogen is a native New Yorker. Although she got her MFA at Pratt Institute, she is a newcomer to photography. She currently lives in Brooklyn with her family. Contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org.