weight shifted toward an inner east the warped feet dance further into where there are no witnesses
long arm pointing at the ground what dust makes a short shuffle a dry pounded square
tongues of the lyric open-mouthed where leaves come to shredding a cool torn juice . . . some kind of forgiveness, spewed (you can touch it if your hands are slow enough)
Erzulie’s hips move out of the whirlpool by some stone bed creek song of her lips parting as if night: . . . guard the soft black of your pupils this they will steal like a kiss
Works by Rachel Elizabeth Harding
Rachel Elizabeth Harding, who received the M.F.A. in poetry from Brown University, is a candidate for the Ph.D. in Latin American history at the University of Colorado. During this academic year, she is in Salvador da Bahia doing research on nineteenth century Brazil. Her poems and short fiction have appeared in The Langston Hughes Review, The Guadalupe Review, Chelsea, and Feminist Studies.