By Rico Craig
we’re carrying epistles
waking every morning
to a jug of cold water over our head
saving by streetlights
there are half-eaten bodies
buried in the dirt
they’ve been shot in the neck
and we’re dancing on the streets
running up walls
turning backflips with clerks
in their shirt sleeves
our mothers are bedridden
clutching their own hands
every lover we’ve had is wearing
a different hat
some of them have painted
moustaches on top lips
they’re eating fried eggs
and speaking in coughs.
Rico Craig is a teacher, writer, and award-winning poet whose work melds the narrative, lyrical, and cinematic. Craig is published widely; his poetry collection BONE INK was winner of the 2017 Anne Elder Award and shortlisted for the Kenneth Slessor Prize for Poetry in 2018. To find his recent writing, visit ricocraig.com, and follow him on Instagram @rico_craig and Twitter @RicoCraig.
