Rae Armantrout, p.1


A boy severs his fingers,
by accident, in my imagination

where his first thought is

"My mother
will be so frightened"


Horn jags
from a radio

as evasive

extruded ink
jets, sea snakes

turn mouth-forward,
bodies snapping

as if

out of sight

as if


and over

were a scouting party
that arrives,


in the third person