David Citino

( Columbus, Ohio )

from BFR, Winter 2001


Corpse of Recluse Found a Year After Her Death

There is no recluse like a corpse. We all
are bound for the sublime isolation

of our own company, the kitchen in chaos, 
no time to tidy up. Shadow and Bubba 

dissolve at our feet, a geometry of bones 
spelling out the last letter home. I canít 

close my eyes or stop grinning. It doesnít
matter. The cop walks slow, kneels

beside me, leather of his belt and holster 
creaking, both knees. Eyes like coins, 

face full of dread and awe, he must think 
that Iím a god.

Next - Ruth Daigon

Contents - Reader

Current Issue - Blue Fifth Reader