by Kristina Andersson Bicher
I have eaten a clean & decent cheese; drank a dram of Bach. Washed then wandered
into a waffled hotel robe. Reordered my legs on the bed and many-feathered pillow.
Outside a baby grand wriggles on a meat hook. A barge pulls the grey-green ribbon
of its grief along the canal. The carmine shutters are the flared & fixed gills of a giant
wooden fish. Your voice is a vine of church and stream. The ancient clocks whir their
tiny tambourines. Soon, we will be two racehorses in the age of elephants.
Kristina Andersson Bicher is a poet, essayist, and translator living in New York. Her work has been published in Ploughshares, Brooklyn Rail, Harvard Review, Hayden’s Ferry, Plume, Narrative, and others. She is author of the poetry collection She-Giant in the Land of Here-We-Go-Again (MadHat Press, Spring 2020) and Just Now Alive (2014). She holds an MFA from Sarah Lawrence College.
Ovenbird Poetry 