Crystal Stone

Ketoacidosis

With trash hammer-sloshed across the floor,
the house burps stale people-breath
where there are no husband tears, moans--
young eyes look look away.

The house burps stale people-breath
while the officer’s radio buzzes.
young eyes look look away--
virgin-unvirgin body in yellow-rum sheets.
 
While she buzzed, the officer radios.
The husband watched silently, skin as mead--
virgin-unvirgin body in yellow-rum sheets.
Will he sound-sleep in their bed?


The mead watched silently, husband just skin;
officers collect bottles, evidence—wondering,
will he sound-sleep in their bed?
Second wife now gone, lying in her waste.
 
Officers collect bottles, evidence. I wonder:
where are the husband tears, moans--
second wife now gone, lying in her waste
with trash hammer-sloshed across the floor?

---

Writing around the Self

There’s a picture on the wall:
a woman whose breast almost exposed
winks a sure glance at a man behind her.
He looks like he’s going to kiss her.

The walls are green, though. The draft
sighs, as if he knows it—knows the ending.
But there is no ending or resolution,
just the objects of an in-use room:

the unemptied can of white trash.
A hamper of dirty laundry. Creased
pillows. A ticking clock on a wooden desk.
Outside the window, the base of the beech

tree looks like an elephant foot, stepping
unbalanced—like the picture-woman and
from the corner, a cello watches silently,
brown-nosing, strings long out of tune.



--
Crystal Stone is a junior at Allegheny College studying English, with a creative writing focus. Her poetry is forthcoming in Badlands Literary Journal, The Sigma Tau Delta Rectangle, and Green Blotter. Her poetry previously appeared in Dylan Days. She serves as a Student Representative for the Eastern region of Sigma Tau Delta (the International English Honor Society) and tutors an adult learner for a local literacy program in her free time.