On Her Way to the Bulmer House
E. A. Caris
When it happened, the tooth
struck through the fatty muscle
on her forearm. She was riding
a single-speed, carrying a basket
of somewhere-else’s-daffodils.
The dalmatian & its tongue limping
outside its jaw swayed on her arm
like schmatta on clotheslines. Oh what
exposure—her already traversed skin (she
bathed for her visit this morning), each
of its hairs awake to see a blood-sun. She began
to hear red, or the red-handed handler say
something like can I get you a paper towel, ice
water?
Now my dog eyes her in primordial
forests, one jowl flapping against a premolar
& canine—one for ripping, one for holding
I’ve learned. Look she says a scar the shape
of Florida. Over there, a basswood toppled,
the tree now speaks in coins. Begin at the end, I ask:
last, divorce; then, her missing brother; first, heroin.
E. A. Caris is a queer poet, educator, and a recent graduate of the MFA Program in Poetry at Rutgers University in Newark, where she now teaches Creative Writing and English. Her work has been recognized with fellowships and residencies from Fine Arts Work Center, Art Farm, and the Sitka Fellows Program. Her poems can be found in Arkana.