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Christine Hamm's Blog

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May.18.2013
    Breach   A crack. A creak. A groan. From the other side of the wracked fence, horses peer into the ditch. Hooves scrape away moss. A red bicycle hits a dip, flips sideways, spinning and gasping. My mother's torn apron over a rounded belly, wavering. Stones scatter from the...
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Mar.29.2013
The Lost Needle   Ornery, you called me, crystalline, fluttering.   Stars on wands, stuck in gravel near the mailbox, indicated a turn.   Your breath made them stir.   At night, the pinwheels glowed faint green, wavered.   Japanese beetles, glinting like apples, swarmed...
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Mar.05.2013
After Image   Outside, a field bent by a recent snow. A truck idles by the shed. Red, surrounded by a black wavering cloud. I have your necklace in my boot. The music of faulty tractors, the milking shed crying and bleating. Blackened egg shells by the tip of the hose. Our dog flings...
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Feb.23.2013
Origin Story     On the hospital lawn, we perch,                knees touching. The blue swallows                    ...
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Jan.25.2013
  Popsicle Stick Castle     We lost the cookbook, found it in the bathtub. Added hot water from a rusty spigot. Added used matches.   We unplugged the lights, the blowdryer. Doors chimed open and closed, the windows boiling black.   You dreamed I spit on the curtains, and...
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Jan.17.2013
  Re-animate   I. Bones and gold and lilac, various freckled colors.   Three-year-old skeletons can taunt even after their heads are removed. Her story about what happens to the white stunt horse after filming makes you skirt the lake for a year. She says, “I see you” until your...
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Jan.11.2013
  Dress Rehearsal – Christine Hamm     Someone calling, Mira, Mira, not so close. A white lake. Something frozen, stepping on something frozen and uneven. The seagulls clatter, pull the clouds into filaments. The moon, a lopsided mouth, enters your body and you drown again. Last...
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Jan.06.2013
Fallout     You cover your eyes and point. Here. No, here. The nurses enter   carrying bricks, their breath clotting our tiny ditch. Here.   Where the blister starts: memory's petting zoo.   This time, you be sorry. I'm busy digging a hole   where we both can live...
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Jan.01.2013
Three Sisters, Oregon   Fireflies fell regularly into The tents, scrambled in the corner of the lodge, smelled of urine and You were crying, locked in the Porto-San, and no one could The raccoons, all dark hands and musk, crawled in through One of the counselors in the hot tub said I took the...
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Dec.21.2012
  Two Posies   Our nurse caps askew. Bobby pins trailing. Fake clouds, pulled from the insides of pillows, strewn between the replanted pines. The lawn glowing behind everything as we ran. We left a piece of you behind on that hospital bed. The wrong kind of humour leaking from your...
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Dec.09.2012
Prints   Found face down in the toilet, toenails newly painted and smudged, a black lace glove on her right hand.  Two dollars’ worth of dimes sprayed on the carpet near her bed.  You asked me how long I had known about the spot on her left lung, about the bills she was paying for a...
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Dec.04.2012
Hypnagogia You can see my ribs coming out my eyes.  You can see.  You can. I once had a dog with a girl’s name.  He took the name and he shook it, like a dog shakes a rat in a field.  Listen, now.  The floor bends and moans like an old hip.  It’s called “creak” or “...
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Dec.02.2012
A Bouquet of Things Other Than Flowers   For example, buttons.  For example, half-eaten persimmons. You kneel in front of me, claiming you don’t have lice.   Verbs to fit into this sentence: hush, sweep, cough, man-handle, howl, water.  For example, the color of your shoes...
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Nov.18.2012
I am Reading   your dream journal.  In it, a tree arches down to the sidewalk, spreads its branches, becomes a large Brown Recluse.  You continue sinking slowly into the river; you continue trying to light your stove with a slipper.  Your mother appears on the back of the spider...
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Nov.15.2012
One chapter in my dissertation is on Marianne Moore -- http://poetrycrush.com/2012/11/15/marianne-moore/
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