Stranger

They would congregate right regular.

(In the dirt-lot of the First Baptist
Or along by that abbatoir off the brackcreek.)

The hot meat of the matter
Being to parse-patch what they’d heard of what she was.

Marrowwise what she was to them
Was foreign-faced Not natural: Not from here.

Of no (known) rhizomatic strain nor kith nor kin.

Word said and word’d spread She’s some flotsam
From that load of ‘those’ what flooded here by boat
.

Say they bought some bait from off her cart—
How they’d pincer-snatch their change like she was hot.

pink dew-worms I got! fish-eyes & roaches. live
minnows for cheap. chicken (neck) gristle. no crickets
.

Her (uncreased) neck her every body-part their snack.

Theirs to eyeball-eat and memorize
To judge; to pass from each to each from mouth to ear.

Have you smelled the hair on her. Have you
Bagged a feel of leg. Would you

You could always put a bag on her. Why she all the time
Bansheeing (bent down) dawn-sweeping her dirt
.

Possessed by slingstone fireball-bags of shit they torched her yard.

(Wouldn’t they congregate
Right regular.)

By time and ire her rent-house formed a skin of dunt and char.

—Atsuro Riley

Atsuro Riley was brought up in coastal South Carolina. He lives in San Francisco.