Size / / /


Quiet, I was getting ready

to be that lovely spill


of golden light and I think

I understand that life-mask,


learning how to die, shaken,

the usual self turned back onto


living on that queen’s apocalyptic

moment of combustion,


my broken body almost running,

cheeks flushed gray, cool, intent—


God’s voice was a great weariness

and I almost swung by the wrist


in the dusk, hanging hunted

calling for mother.



This is an erasure poem. Source: King, Stephen. Christine. New York: Signet, 1983. 45-47 Print.

Based in Austin, TX, E. Kristin Anderson has been published widely in magazines.  She’s also the author of eight chapbooks, including A Guide for the Practical Abductee, Fire in the Sky and Pray, Pray, Pray: Poems I wrote to Prince in the middle of the night.  Kristin is Special Projects Manager for ELJ and a poetry editor at Found Poetry Review.  Once upon a time, she worked at The New Yorker.

%d bloggers like this: