An excerpt from Traditions:
Standing on the porch in one high heel shoe,
“EAT ME” underwear and neon green hair,
she grins through bloody teeth, howls at the man
in the moon – howls and howls and then she’s done.
Ostrich feather earrings, plummets, define
the angles of her upturned face and arched
throat – a contour ancient as the species.
She pulls off her wig as she goes inside.
Minutes later, barefoot, in fresh panties
and a t-shirt, she comes out holding a
backpack, sits on the porch swing, lights a
cigarette. Pulling out a book and pen,
she fans the pages of Feyerabend’s
Against Method, looking for the final
chapter. Swinging slowly, she reads in a
whisper, stops to make notes in the margins.
Standing on the porch in one high heel shoe,
“EAT ME” underwear and neon green hair,
she grins through bloody teeth, howls at the man
in the moon – howls and howls and then she’s done.
Ostrich feather earrings, plummets, define
the angles of her upturned face and arched
throat – a contour ancient as the species.
She pulls off her wig as she goes inside.
Minutes later, barefoot, in fresh panties
and a t-shirt, she comes out holding a
backpack, sits on the porch swing, lights a
cigarette. Pulling out a book and pen,
she fans the pages of Feyerabend’s
Against Method, looking for the final
chapter. Swinging slowly, she reads in a
whisper, stops to make notes in the margins.
Traditions
Michael Aro
Michael Aro
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