Mad-hatter of a glitter-eyed
night, send our ghosts a savior.
Kiss our strength away
until our being blends into the moon.
Broken under this bald clap of light, half-dead
bugs sizzle in the shag carpet. Deliver us
over to that fruited flesh, into that smooth
darkness where we can hide together.
—Ryan Romine
Published in the January 14, 2011 issue: View Contents