Not glamor but Glamor

E. Kristin Anderson

Paper flowers hid flies,
props floating over the dust.

Bombs X’d the precise spot
between now and nails.

Still humming, night air
played from a vent in the wall.

And down, dust-marked, surprise
made lips reach to the ground.

Under the quiet spoil, all the glamor
(the odor of flowers) scooped wraiths:

soft, beautiful strangers.

This is an erasure poem. Source material: Carrie by Stephen King. New York: Anchor, 2011, pp. 166-171.

E. Kristin Anderson (Twitter: @ek_anderson) is a poet and author living in Austin, TX. She’s the co-editor of the Dear Teen Me anthology and her poetry has been published worldwide in many magazines. Kristin is the author of seven chapbooks including A Guide for the Practical Abductee, Pray, Pray, Pray: Poems I wrote to Prince in the middle of the night, 17 Days, Acoustic Battery Life, Fire in the Sky and She Witnesses (forthcoming). Kristin is a co-editor at Lucky Bastard Press and is a poetry editor at Found Poetry Review. Once upon a time she worked at The New Yorker.

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