Blog Post / Fall 2016 / Issues / Poetry / Poetry 2016 / Volume 47

Loose String–E. Kristin Anderson

They looked exactly the same—

the blue tension,

the hall, the floor,

almost magically wrapped in lush.


Thrones seated sarcasm,

too fast,       legs trembling.


Punch-drunk intuition

somehow grinned

and I love

I love     I love—

all too high.


I want to get down,

throw laughter

to its feet.


Joints pop, hands set soft,

go on.


They’re there,     in the dark:

So lush       like hell, pride

violently loose with music.


Breath: glass in throat;

whistle: dreamy wide.


So quickly that there was a sparkle,

red right away,             I knew.


I looked up, loud,

eyes       wide,




This is an erasure poem. Source material: King, Stephen. Carrie. New York: Anchor, 2011. 192-199. Print.


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