Bluegill
a twist of nicked blade
weighty in palm, quick
& bloody lush of trash-fish
spilt over wet shale:
these delineations of membrane,
of silica spine—sunlit copper
& glint of intestines in miniature.
curiosity in its realization
gains a new layer of nausea,
whispers isn’t it lonely to be god?
how licks from the dull knife
carve in us a deliberate fear.
Our Disillusion in Three Acts
ACT I: THE PLEDGE
examine the ordinary
girl: bluing collar,
her hackneyed legs,
wrists a repertoire
of exotic knots—
tethered bird in hand.
are you watching closely?
ACT II: THE TURN
you subtle shill,
sleight of claw
or nape of neck: clutch
the delicate tarsus.
sternum as trick lock,
heart as vanishing
cage. slip a canary
down my throat,
her punctured lung
up your sleeve
ACT III: THE PRESTIGE
& reveal another from the mouth.
amidst the beat of wings,
canary in the crook grows cold.
Savannah Skinner is a sort-of-senior at SUNY Geneseo. She studies history and creative writing. This is Savannah’s second publication in Gandy Dancer. If she were to befriend a fictional character, it would be Arrietty Clock, in the hopes that together they could borrow many small, shiny things.
1 poem by Michele Lynn Pawlak >>