Flatt

Do Not Uncross Your Fingers

Lucas Flatt

I said, no sir
do not touch
down—I’m pleading to
the rafters, up there
there is a ropeswing
with a slipknot
shit load of whispering
hornets, man, it’s scary
what the world
thinks up
 
up there I am afraid to go
on tip toes, fall hale
in hay
 
come ticks, come heart
broke, bang a sign up
there’s all this clap board
it’s getting rot
I love you
in the loft there is a blanket
a batch of dime store roses
been rolled on, come find me
slat wink round sunset
like you’re inside lightning
I said, a moment
hesitating
like your ribcage hugs your heart
 
 

LUCAS FLATT teaches freshmen composition at Tennessee Tech University and has stories at Green Brier Review, Ellipsis… Literature & Art, and Fiction Southeast.

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