All I Know About Sin is Robin Egg Blue

by | Feb 9, 2021 | Issue Nineteen, Poetry

two gentle orbs

nestled in a fallen thatched bowl

found beneath the canopy

of a Douglas Fir’s lowest limbs

the neighbor girl

wanted me

dared me to

crush it in my palm

so easily I chose, and

she looked satisfied

before leaving me

cross-legged in the pines

my father’s whistle, his hand

in his teeth, I ran from that

mattress of needles,

smearing the shell

shattered in my hand –

but the rot

permeated the pores,

filled the beds

of my fingers, soaked the smooth

surface of uncracked flesh, and

i never did manage.


to get the stain out

i never did manage

to wash it away

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