“Sentence” (Eduardo C. Corral)


After Don McKay

I crawl back       he unpacks his tools
oils the wooden handles       rinses the metal

fragrant       his thighs fragrant his sneer

koi & eternity inked on his skin       an ecstatic
blue a bewildered green

some wounds are ovals some wounds are opals
the ears of a white wolf pivot       toward the moon

I flee now & then       alone in the desert for months
a nomad in a kimono of pressed-together dust

beautiful his throat his words       even more beautiful
“it’s my turn to ask for a bit more from you”

he likes it when I bleed       strangers once

gently he hammers gold into a sentence       gently
the sentence enters me

—Eduardo C. Corral
—from Poetry (September 2016)

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