His name is relict
terminarch, ender, the last
sleeping alone under the cool brush
under the stars burning their lights out
the decay of his own bones
and the forest floor, the leaves and spores
but he dies in the night. They all do.
Follow the deep blood kettle, off the edge of buffalo jumps
on the shores of frozen ocean, in the middle of sequoias
and find them all lingering intergrade, as bastard hybrids
lost children in nature’s shopping malls, gangs of clines
surfacing from the deep.
Build cairns, pile stones, stack shale
into petroforms, pull totems erect with ropes
and see if they all return despite
a syncreticism of liars and thieves
pickpocketing the lonely
when they feel the hand
reach in and pull away their name.
Katie Eber holds a B.A. in English Literature from Roanoke College (Class of ‘11) and is a 2014 graduate from the Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing program at Fairfield University. Her work has appeared in On Concept’s Edge, Hobo Pancakes, and Garbanzo Literary Journal.
Katie enjoys good beer, good sandwiches, and advocating for the widespread use of business hammocks. She resides in the shadow of the Metacomet Ridge in central Connecticut or somewhere thereabouts.