Elizabeth Kerlikowske
He manufactured pearls from another world
They were enchanted snails skinned by the drain
their tender bodies not yet missing their closets,
the toe nails they pulled over their tentacles.
Two or three on the shower floor each morning.
My sister said they were blood, pus, and phlegm
tied around with the white string from an egg.
We never stepped on those marbles twice, milky
bloodshot eyes the same as mottled maple leaves
where one color is not enough to modify a lung.
Seeds, pearls, then barnacles. The production
exhausted him as the harvest came on. He hunched
over in the car and filled a coffee can with treasure,
past the vineyard where tight nodules of grapes
blush and darken but will never ripen
before the first hard frost.
Bio
Elizabeth Kerlikowske makes art in the midwest, writes in a tree house, and teaches at Kellogg Community College. Her work has appeared many places over the years including in a gum ball machine, on calendars, posters, and in online and print journals. Most recent book: RIB from Pudding House Press.