The Auctioneer’s Daughter–Poems by Whitney Kerutis

Whitney Kerutis poems 1

by Whitney Kerutis

Swans

The hem of lungs pick up at 4am
when the city arches on bottoming out;

a mouth—
swing the outer leg over

and girl window-boxed
will deduct your erasure.

Everyone on this bus is milk;

Swans, how they dive over,
like siren tied against ship’s figurehead.

I have never had to wean anyone
from my chest/

fumble about your buttons
no hands or teeth—

That man there hides his expiration
under a briefcase.

That woman there has already expired
in the shape from which she was formed.

 

  

The Auctioneer’s Daughter

I

Between my breasts is a
book rubbed of its title.
Having been cracked open
and thumbed through careless
by petal pinchers, its half
naked looms expose sights
of spinal boning, little rot-canaries.

 

II

My slab upon
the auctioneer’s pedestal
looked out to bidder fans poking
like broom sticks at the sky
(that was someone else’s floor)
and I realized this body to be marginal—
if I could just swim through

 

 

The Hovering Head

She began reading poems
in the tone of his forehead padded
by padded bone.
Muffled and mosey,

lolling across teeth. He rises above.

Her widened gully at the base of his chin
waiting for

pea pods sunken into
a romanticized skull
to split and
flaked plaster frosting tops of chandeliers—

        who to call when in need of tremor?

She noticed the carpet balding.
(camera pans across the bed)

her sleeping habits

his split pods opening upwards.

Paper pills spill
out split seams. Who will run

back and forth with a basket?

 

Whitney Kerutis poetryWhitney Kerutis is an Arizona native, currently residing in Denver, Colorado. She is a current MFA student at the University Of Colorado Boulder where she works on several projects including Timber Journal and as the Social Media Editor of Letter Machine Editions. She is interested in creating physical poetry— her themes including the body as a menace of conversation.
Photo credit: Lauren Kerutis

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