And so I left, my fists tearing new pockets
in a coat made of bullet holes.
The sweaty blue sky ordered me to dream
and I asked how high!
Appleseed, John J. In ripped fatigues
I scattered handfuls of blood
no matter where I tried to go. Homeless most nights,
I watched my stars slide across the whetstone sky.
On heavy evenings the rain fell, ringing
like spent machine gun shells in the heat,
a lullaby I swallowed.
And there, in the midst of expendable shadows,
as if they were bow strings I’d pluck the laces
of my scarred boots, my foot pointed at my heart.
*Originally published by Beatdom in 2012, issue #12.
Catherine Bull’s poetry has appeared in Bellingham Review, FIELD, Literary Bohemian, The Operating System and other journals. She earned degrees in Poetry and English/Creative Writing from Oberlin College and U.C. Davis, and lives in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle, Washington.