Counting Stones
E. Kristin Anderson
It was better to look up at the night, rosebuds
edged with ascent, a little escape

to carry between my legs. I became panic,

over and over my blood seized in the slope
of irony, glad to be burning

in the dimness, a bad dream that dared to dance

pretty. Remember—it was my hands
holding open the TV, the train, the magazines.

You might damn me for my sullen months,

gentle and low. I put my years away
from the windows, leave myself anger

on the floor. Silence and teeth stood red,

bit down, my monster splitting
inside me—awake and the same every night.

This is an erasure poem. Source text: Andrews, V. C. Flowers in the Attic. Pocket Books Paperback ed. New York: Pocket Books, 2014. 267-280. Print.

E. Kristin Anderson is a poet and glitter enthusiast living mostly at a Starbucks somewhere in Austin, Texas. A Connecticut College alumna with a B.A. in classical studies, Kristin’s work has appeared in many magazines including The Texas Review, The Pinch, Barrelhouse Online, TriQuarterly, and FreezeRay Poetry. She is the editor of Come as You Are, an anthology of writing on 90s pop culture (Anomalous Press) and is the author of nine chapbooks of poetry including Pray Pray Pray: Poems I wrote to Prince in the middle of the night (Porkbelly Press), Fire in the Sky (Grey Book Press), 17 seventeen XVII (Grey Book Press), and Behind, All You’ve Got (Semiperfect Press). Kristin is a poetry reader at Cotton Xenomorph and an editorial assistant at Sugared Water. Once upon a time she worked the night shift at The New Yorker. Find her online at EKristinAnderson.com and on twitter at @ek_anderson.

More by E. Kristin Anderson:
Times Was a Seed.