2 Poems by Lynn Finger
Drained wind flattens hearts of gold-wrapped candy
February 12, 2022
The moon is sleepy & tangled in leaves
I call for help. Clouds float over,
cold & dirty, no maps for miles.
I pass an old gas pump that someone
wrote their name on. I hear you
call out, a raven with one wing.
Threaded together, we soar, wounds
hold wounds, we are textured &
seen. Drained wind flattens
hearts of gold-wrapped candy,
what else are we but ashes
of our own burning.
We rearrange the boxes
that cached puzzles like we
did, useful, at least not empty.
Stars buttered on the sideboard,
scattered lies in a never-ending
fall. The morning after, I lie
under husks & monsters.
I stroke the feathers lathed
from your single wing.
What have we done to
The ghost horse grazes
on hibiscus across the street.
He is translucent as a promise,
reflects a garage, an owl, a telephone
pole, the carousel, a mime, the path
to zero. It is the day before
sunset, the last that will tear
the light from the sky, a blood
rose crushed from a bush.
The owl hoots hollow from
a branch. I watch you go & don’t
call you back. It takes nothing
to realize you need less, life
is greedy to remind. It doesn’t
matter my lips were sewn
shut. The wind lacerates
the ghost horse’s shadow.
How badly do you want
the truth? He is invisible,
but I see him, so
I must be too.
Lynn Finger’s writings have appeared in 8Poems, Perhappened, Book of Matches, Fairy Piece, Drunk Monkeys, and is forthcoming in Anti-Heroin Chic. She was nominated for the 2021 Best of the Net Anthology. Lynn edits Harpy Hybrid Review and works with a group that mentors writers in prison. Her Twitter is @sweetfirefly2.