“When the Craftsman Found His Lover Six Weeks Dead” by Holly Hunt

January 27, 2015

When the Craftsman Found His Lover Six Weeks Dead

He was not a soul to meander,
So he set her on fire and fanned her,
For clearly, she stunk
Like the prettiest skunk—
Then he polished her skull with a sander.


pic2hollyhuntHolly Hunt’s poetry has been published in wonderful serious places: The Southern Review, Ploughshares, Poetry, Beloit Poetry Journal. She has wilder work forthcoming in BlazeVOX and Harbinger Asylum. Hunt lives in Vancouver, Washington, transplanting herself from central rural Arkansas where she was raised by tame Methodists, Mama, and much wilder drinkin’ Caddo River folk, her daddy’s clan.

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