Five erasure poems using the text of Luisa’s Morning Porch poem for today, “Clearing.”

And the sugar is more than bones
or skin, the hunger has not made
new music. Let me drown reaching
for a cardinal, for a thimbleful
of flight: bright like you, when
flies give thanks.

Carry cinders for others.
Give a table your boredom or misery,
all cheap china or shiny fire.
The rose, children, is a branch away.

Unscathed, you kept
your new electronics.
The witch in the belly
rose to the breast.
Under the hammer, a firecracker,
urgent You.

A smell like a cheap rose.
Banks drown everyone for ten red flies.

Afterwards, the air came cheap,
new wants sleeping at the breast.
Grandmothers in the bush for a good time,
the post-it note read.

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