what kind of woman? characters by bridget graham
mo
other
the gun doesn’t have to be fired. When our hero sits on the edge of his bed contemplating the pistol on his nightstand, you have to believe he might not use it
apologies to the youn who will never get to own profound revolut
ng revolutionaries o witness their tion but their own execution. execution. execution.
daug
ghter
The moon will shine for God knows how long. As if it still matters. As if someone is trying to recall a dream.
Believe the brain is a cage of light & rage. When it shuts off,
something else switches on. There’s no better reason than
n
now to lock the doors, the windows.
no o
one’s
in a world of fl & teeth, mu learn to what you lov & love what can die.
flesh , you ust o kill ve,
I wear my grandmother’s bones like a housedress through the city. Some nights the block tells me all its problems. I’ll meet you at the top of the biggest rock in Rolesville or on train headed to a reading in Queens, just tell me where. I promise to gather your bones only for good. I was not swallowed by the darkness between two buildings. I don’t want to die in the south like so many of mine. I want to be carried back.
L E T M E TELL YOU THIS