Jerrod E. Bohn
Jerrod E. Bohn

Atria: Palpitation


of my rib I have made you
a beautiful cage

the floor scraps you perch over
are my joints’ compost

b/c a knuckle is a poem or a wire
& my throat a latch for your song

through adam’s apple’s bars
metered syllables of doors

Atria: Flutter


there is a full moon
in the water & a menagerie
of still stars

your toe-dip carves
waves into crescents

makes new

craters & ripple