Urn Skin

Materialized by william erickson on Thursday, December 21st 2023.

As a boy I fell inside of a shape. The villagers set out their rescue
pants and sharpened their knives, but who could say what
constitutes dimension? This was the start of the Era of
Argumentation, the last time anyone fed the cats or crocuses.
There was endless banter in the village light, and endless light
exhaled from all the villagers' mouths, and it rose above the docks
where underneath the seaweed whales fit snugly till the hooks
came down. I know now I've lived a double life—like how you
wander the strip mall days at a time bleeding little drips of dried
up clay.

william erickson is a living poet. His work appears in Afternoon Visitor, Gone Lawn, Sixth Finch, and elsewhere. william is a 2024 Best of the Net nominee, his most recent chapbook is Sandbox (Bottlecap Press), and his debut collection is forthcoming with April Gloaming in 2024. He lives in Washington with his partner and their two dogs in an old house across the street from a large tree.