portion of the artwork for David Rosenheim's poem

Bloody Knuckles
David Rosenheim

your stomach ripples
as if you swallowed the
buzzing phone
that bore the missive
“baby, I’m gone”

a sound like a
bulldozer beeping
springs from your gut

you look surprised
as if you don’t know
you’re about to blow

an old memory flashes—
the Canada girl
see-through skin
blue veins
the lodge
in Banff
lead panes
wracked by
sheets of
Arctic rain
cracking fire
piled high
dogs asleep
on bear pelts
as after
medieval hunt

playing
knuckles
with her
cruel sisters
loser’s penance
full deck slap
you held
her hand
the first time
her soft
child skin
sticky
with blood

the beeping accelerates like
card flaps against bike spokes
you hold your breath and
wait to detonate



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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 47 | Spring 2016