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Caitlin Scarano

His Stained Hands


dear gone:


our hardwood floor kind of love

was a bird


happy for a season


between the wires

and then taken

from her cage by the widowtree


our paths were always bound to fork


your childhood was a rope swing

a cool glass of milk

a yellow dog running through snow


while my own was all sound –

the nighttrain pressing

his bearded face to my window

rattling the house with stained hands


the pleasing sharpness of my mother's

shovel cutting into wet dirt and the drag

of her father's feet outside the den


like her I grew up against a current:

his smell his hands his anger


I've been thinking a lot about getting sober

been really thinking about it

since you left

but the man in the moon never

shows his face I only hear him




you know my father never made it


I like to think my mother keeps a bone for him

like I do for you

small wrapped in a baby blue dishtowel


some years she didn't think of it at all


but some years she'd take it


from her dresser drawer surprised

to find it still humming there

next to her daughters'

lost teeth and hair

The houses where they eat the lambs


Wishbone, forked bone

between the neck and breast of a bird


but we are not the bird. Nor the feather, nor

the stone that brought her warm


body down. I am the weak point, a snap,

furcular crack. You are the wish mouthed


against a wall of air. Worm between the ribs.

Smeared blood above a door. Dedication


takes many forms. We stand by these

baby-bleached altars. Gather veins like soft


blue thread in a basket of skin. To not harm

others is not enough. I want to love you


so much that you have no before. No mother,

no bower, no history of burning doors.


The sea with her rising wet ash. To be marrow

intimate. A crime committed


squatting among the reeds. Add grit

to the skin for texture. Crouch like a toad


beneath the bowl of your skull

and turn the skeleton key in your eye.


Lover, we will know no neighbors. No light

beyond the teeth of a laughing loon.  

Caitlin Scarano poems

Caitlin Scarano is a poet in the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee PhD creative writing program. Her poem "Mule" was selected for the Best New Poets 2016 anthology. Her recent work can be found in Granta, Crazyhorse, and Ninth Letter. Her debut collection of poems will be released in Fall 2017 by Write Bloody Publishing. 

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