Sandy Ostrau © 2020
by Daniel Hardisty
exit wound
home sick
soil sick
sick in love again
nosferatu
leaves two
beads of blood
nippling
the naked white
of her neck
she will not live
or die
or live
at night
the wolves
howl
their short
long short
howl
my step
father told
me the wolfman
had been
driven mad
by the moon
by which
he meant
mad by women
two silver
bullets might
suffice
through the
heart
to finish him
fentanyl
and ice chips
they nipped
at my liver
with a scrapping
needle
and told
me not
to carry a book
or a daughter
for twenty
four hours
I looked
beneath
round dressings
found two distant
equal
punctures
made by silver
or tooth
incision
I imagined
an exit wound
at my back
its plume
of red
tubercular cough
and my body
blown
through
like an egg
pricked
both ends
at Beth Israel
I wait
for a car
alone
at six thirty
and laugh
that this is
how
my story ends
half in love
even now
with moons
and pictures
and
brambled
men
mad in forests
the castles
the split
scientist
the risen dead
the towers
and skies
are empty
my driver
makes
small talk
as I cry
at simplicity
of voice
bluster
of morning
radio
adrift
each soul
reporting
Daniel Hardisty was born in the UK and became a US citizen in 2015. Work has appeared in Poetry London, the London Magazine, Poetry Ireland Review, the Spectator and on BBC Radio 4. He holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Boston University. His first collection, Rose with Harm, is forthcoming in the UK in 2020.