local_library Hiding Oberon

by Bridget Cross

Published in Issue No. 5 ~ October, 1996

slip me specially
between the white skins
       of your bones and under
the blackened cloth.

what am I when walking
but dull movement?

white iron carriage
under a sweet lamp.
the mouth slightly ajar, lungs intact
you are telling me
all about me
and a big fuck-all
       to the world
and to the machine
that claws it way
into your head.

at these kinds of times
I know you,
when your arms grow
stale and the soul falls
numb and you know you’re too old
to be hiding
       this away
and the bathroom floor floods
with smoke
an the bed collapses
and the water spills
because you knocked it when weeping,

I might know all about this,
the lip-pursed demon, puddle-full
with venom.

fold your soul sideways
and let me see
into all that black
       and white.

account_box More About

Bridget Cross is a student at Reed College in Oregon. In her own words: "I originally come from the heavenly land of New York City, the greatest city on earth, home of the greatest basketball team on earth, love loud music, quiet corners, dancing, driving, people, home, greasy food, diet coke, basket ball, cigarettes, five AM, markers, Ireland, windows, Adidas, oil lamps, notebooks, good smiles, long hugs, rain, sounding like a personals ad and most importantly, procrastinating!"