{"id":1057,"date":"2011-03-13T01:21:11","date_gmt":"2011-03-13T01:21:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=1057"},"modified":"2011-03-13T01:21:11","modified_gmt":"2011-03-13T01:21:11","slug":"seth-elkins-311","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/seth-elkins-311\/","title":{"rendered":"Seth Elkins, 3\/11"},"content":{"rendered":"

ANTLER<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

the frost passed the time<\/span>
\n running its fingers<\/span>
\n through the woods<\/span><\/p>\n

picking and pulling<\/span>
\n until everything<\/span>
\n was still<\/span><\/p>\n

i crossed the line<\/span>
\n without ever acknowledging<\/span>
\n the bridge<\/span><\/p>\n

and when i shook her hand<\/span>
\n previous nights laid calm<\/span>
\n turned to glass<\/span><\/p>\n

we spoke in tongues<\/span>
\n and never once<\/span>
\n spoke a vowel<\/span><\/p>\n

hung in the knotted absence<\/span>
\n of retrospect<\/span>
\n in windows and door frames<\/span><\/p>\n

where exits<\/span>
\n and entrances<\/span>
\n convolute<\/span>
\n <\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

FICTION<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

i tore out the pages<\/span>
\n where you feigned love,<\/span>
\n like a carpenter ant<\/span>
\n discovers a new home<\/span>
\n (a place to dwell,<\/span>
\n and later, eat).<\/span><\/p>\n

it wasn’t much.<\/span>
\n there was never much to say.<\/span>
\n so i folded up each page,<\/span>
\n into soiled hands<\/span>
\n sewn together<\/span>
\n in\u00a0permanent confession<\/span>
\n (a place to dwell,<\/span>
\n and later, eat).<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/strong>BROMDEN<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

i already knew<\/span>
\n that there were senses<\/span>
\n farther from our conversations<\/span>
\n than charades or roses<\/span>
\n could neither betray<\/span>
\n nor help<\/span><\/p>\n

but i covered myself in dust<\/span>
\n just trying to (remember?)<\/span>
\n fill in the holes.<\/span><\/p>\n

and incidentally,<\/span><\/p>\n

time, became a gathering of arms.<\/span>
\n and it was selfish<\/span>
\n to have held it<\/span>
\n like a womb-<\/span><\/p>\n

casual hair-triggers<\/span>
\n next to calm, spent shells.<\/span><\/p>\n

it had become itinerary,<\/span>
\n to wear my flesh to the bone-<\/span>
\n crawling on my belly,<\/span>
\n brushing bloody kisses off the walls,<\/span>
\n and peeling bait off the fishhooks.<\/span><\/p>\n

but i’m cagey.<\/span><\/p>\n

i pretend i don’t know.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

ANTLER the frost passed the time running its fingers through the woods picking and pulling until everything was still i crossed the line without ever acknowledging the bridge and when i shook her hand previous nights laid calm turned to glass we spoke in tongues and never once spoke a vowel hung in the knotted […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1057","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nSeth Elkins, 3\/11 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/seth-elkins-311\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Seth Elkins, 3\/11 - 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