Gilda

by Andrea Baker

selected by Claudia Rankine

From Gilda


gilda is a white-throat child

a thrown open door-child

a missing in the attic child



and gilda, the lay assassin


has no hands

 

 
            gilda: still lay
            them upon me
 
 
pull your face off


from the tattooed face



my broken egg eyes




put your tongue upon me


ghost out my sight



inside the double sided wall
 
           

            and in the historical blue

            machine gun sky
 
 
 valley to be lifted through


valley to be licked

through


our tight feet in hide

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