Hang the Satin at the Hearth

by E. Kristin Anderson

(a golden shovel after Kesha)

Hard into the sidewalk our bones trip concrete and
ash, a final prospect of promise to bring us to now—
white sedan after white sedan crashing swift past the

girls in the breeze. We glitter like red letters in the sun,

wet lips and dry palms kissing the boulevard. Here is
another offering to the old gods, thick women rising
from soil, rhinestones in their eyes to frighten another

generation of buttoned-down men. Our arms are long

and sinewed with oak; here we remember the walk
from summer to summer, steadfast and passing back
to back to bone, eyes up to see the feathers of home.

E. KRISTIN ANDERSON is a poet, Starbucks connoisseur, and glitter enthusiast living in Austin, Texas. She is the editor of Come as You Are, an anthology of writing on 90s pop culture (Anomalous Press), and Hysteria: Writing the Female Body (Sable Books, forthcoming). She is the author of nine chapbooks of poetry, including A Guide for the Practical Abductee (Red Bird Chapbooks), Pray, Pray, Pray: Poems I wrote to Prince in the middle of the night (Porkbelly Press), Fire in the Sky (Grey Book Press), 17 seventeen XVII (Grey Book Press), and Behind, All You’ve Got (Semiperfect Press, forthcoming). Kristin is an assistant poetry editor at The Boilerand an editorial assistant at Sugared Water. Once upon a time she worked nights at The New Yorker.