Charles Kell

Bandit Hand
 
 
Grab the grackle’s wet
wing festering in the lemon

twilight. I’ll dip this lit
finger in the flood & finally

sign the court document. In our
shrinking backyard stands

the falling swing-set
where we held A.A. meetings.

I stole the word, our record.
Slid the secret note saying what

I heard in the rusted weft
of the oval tube. We stood

in a circle—a wheel inside
of the air, like the wheel that took

the prophet Ezekiel—discussing
night crimes. Condemned sliver,

gnarled knuckle. Let go finally of
everything you clutched & tried

to drag to the bottom of the sea.
Looking low with slit eye sockets

I see little white Christmas lights
strung around your head shine

like phosphorous in the night

Copyright © Charles Kell 2017

Charles Kell is a PhD student at The University of Rhode Island and editor of The Ocean State Review. He teaches in Rhode Island and Connecticut.

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About sunnydunny

Poet, publisher, gardener
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