Hot Metal Bridge

Current Issue : Number Twenty-Five



(This poem is dedicated to Don Quixote’s horse,
not to the Knight or the Author)

Open your mouth. Howl Idaho
till mountains drop boulders like tear balls.
It’s a crying plain crying with a dry throat
dry throat and coated nostrils
where the dear ones played down the long
river of no revision. Spit nickels.
No, spit teeth, tough and returned
as relic. Here a hack saw, there a sock
eye about to die out for good
in the low-down dry river (me, my) torn
from a liquid gone aerate. Walk anywhere.
No. Try pulling a tarp over your Ida
ho-ho eye and forget. That’s what I try
to do in the tub tonight — its rim of my
own wash-out, sad river. Rocinante,
lead me to water. No, lead me to drink.

Poems by Lynne Potts (Idaho) have appeared in Paris Review, Southern Humanities Review, Oxford Magazine, Cumberland Review, Art Times, River Oak Review, Green Hills Literary Review, Drumvoices, and many other journals. She has an MFA from Columbia University and was Poetry Editor of the Columbia Journal of Literature and Art. She has read at Poets House, Columbia University Gallery, Ear Shot, and Cornelia Street Café -– and was recently a featured poet on WKCR, New York. She was a reader for the 2006 Ludington Poetry Festival in Ludington, MI and was awarded a place at Bread Loaf Writer’s Conference for August 2006.