SIR

Sara Guest

BIOPIC

Red grew up on a commune or got lost
in the woods.
This is how it started:
humming hands
throbbing like the throat of a bird
and coarse-chopped cherries
in earthenware bowls.
Red slipping on ice
mittened hand at throat
mittened hand at back.
Red’s sensual opening
of blossom or coat.
Red’s thoughts racing because
she realized you didn’t mean it.
Something’s lying in wait for you Red
at the edge of your brain.
Take some time for yourself.
Riot in the corner
and end it this way.