
American Ego
We collect stories,lithographic lies.
Postcards of fairgrounds,
ecstatic faces,
wildernesses of vintage evergreen
conquered without consequence.
Blithe knives,
we see ourselves through shot glasses,
a settler’s drunken dream.

Hair Pipe House
Sun-burnished blindssagging
from a sternum string,
make a hair pipe breastplate.
A declaration of worth
for the street.

Red Shadows
I search my neighborhoodfor the radicals
who shot back,
blew up
the toothless union hall.
Drum my fingertips
on gingham-curtained kitchens.
Listen,
splintered wood,
soft brick.
Roll rough Yiddish,
like bone dice
against a home’s foundation.
Leave a calling card;
shiny pennies on the tracks.

Snow’s Secrecy
Snow arrives as a ghost,tiptoes
through your house on a mission.
Lurks,
halfway up alleys,
huddles in doorways,
planning, scheming.

Timberline , Montana
The Rockies speak flotsam:worn glass, lone marbles.
Sun-bleached
timber, dry as driftwood.
Sagebrush
waves, dust-green leaves,
dreams of bladderwrack’s beauty.


Butte
The spirits here don’t suffer from hiraeth;they laugh, and sing
along Silver Street.
At the corner, catching on sleeves,
like spiderwebs,
like dear friends.
Arm-in-arm,
down alleys,
past mansions, mummified shacks,
the blue-shuttered windows of a brothel,
we tumble.
I whisper
Welsh words, half-forgotten,
a path
through sun-purpled glass.
The only hurry in boom town,
are bustling, glad ghosts.
Smiling,
turning up the collars on fine winter coats.


Permanent Migrant
In exile,in a private parlor,
blue smoke curls,
ingrown.
The distance between loved ones
stretches out,
ungiving tombstone.
You’re offered a gambler’s bet,
a sleight of hand,
novelty cowboy hats.
Telephone calls on gritty lines,
accents sounding stronger over time.
All that remains,
dusk’s weak light
between sparse alders.


List of Image Titles:
1. Bluebird Altar (Banner)
2. Agate Street Roofs
3. Twilight
4. Repair
5. Worn Wall
6. Comet Cabin
7. Ruin – Workshop
8. Mile High
9. Labyrinth
10. Abandoned House on Broadway
11. Lexington Headframe
12. Cracked Windscreen

M.S. Evans is a writer and visual artist. Originally from Seattle, she currently lives in her family’s old town of Butte, Montana. Her work has been published in Re-Side, and is soon to appear in Black Bough Poetry. Twitter: @SeaNettleInk Instagram: @permacrust
Page design and edits: Robert Frede Kenter.
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