The injured octopus commandeered my limbs. It furrowed a crown of iron from its sponge dome but I felt no cruelty in the creature's cage. The wall of its body was more an annoyed wave. I was being guided, rained into a room where a tiny moon arose. I was being aired out, not raided. I touched the closest tentacle and felt a burned down candle. We were sharing an urn that was groomed for the cliffs. Mute and molting, we grabbed talons. We were born in a town around the block from our remains. We felt sad for our hands. We had loved our lost moat.
published in Ottawa by above/ground press
a/g subscribers receive a complimentary copy
Eric Baus is the author of four books of poetry, The Tranquilized Tongue (City Lights, 2014), Scared Text (Center for Literary Publishing, 2011), Tuned Droves (Octopus Books, 2009) and The To Sound (Wave Books, 2004). He lives and teaches in Denver.
He also has work in the first issue of Touch the Donkey.
Cover image by Brian Lucas.
To order, send cheques (add $1 for postage; outside Canada, add $2) to: rob mclennan, 2423 Alta Vista Drive, Ottawa ON K1H 7M9 or paypal at www.robmclennan.blogspot.com