Kristin Abraham

HAIR OF THE DOG

When he realized he could cause
dreams, he started with his horse.
Run, he said, and the horse
stomped and pawed in its sleep.
Fly, he said, and it twitched and
shook.

This must be how God discovered
himself. Then cry, he commanded
his sleeping wife. She spilled out
of the joints in her lids. Drown.
She coughed, sputtered, head
from side to side.

How power can stop accumu-
lating, he could not be sure. All he
could do was gather his breath,
assume his role, do what I’m
meant to do. So he clapped his
hands and flakes of stone and clay
turned to rain from his palms.

He made them dream death and
penance, made them tie it around
their wrists like balloons. I’llteach
them consequences. Then his life
started to revolve around
checking to make sure everyone
was breathing.

–from Rattle #28, Winter 2007