by Max Crinnin
when baptized
they set her crib on fire
pushed it out to sea
i take her teeth at the roots
pull she says
i move through the gap like the oslo ferry
i twist like green wood for a keel
i comb her hair
her questions about death
have been answered for years now
tell me the names of metals
nordic legumes
we shiver like holocene
another interglacial period
this is nothing she says