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About this poet

Danielle Pafunda is author of The Dead Girls Speak in Unison (Bloof Books, 2016). She teaches at the University of Wyoming, Laramie.

The Dead Girls Speak in Unison

Do not pretend that you don't like it
when we threaten you.

We see you getting pheromone stink
under the collar, moaning, baldly. 

Motionless, picturing decay.

When we creak your step,
when we crack your glass,
when we tap tap tap,

that is a bone

that is all we have

though we are very shiny,
and filled with beetles.

We are made entirely of bone.

Like an idol.

Like the tusk of some wonderful past.

When you cleave to us,
your skin will fuse,
hot calcium meth,
and in the myth, 
you will be named for us.

Copyright © 2010 by Danielle Pafunda. Used with permission of the author.

Copyright © 2010 by Danielle Pafunda. Used with permission of the author.

Danielle Pafunda

Danielle Pafunda

Danielle Pafunda is author of The Dead Girls Speak in Unison (Bloof Books, 2016). She teaches at the University of Wyoming, Laramie.

by this poet

poem

What use in you you wrong wrought wood
what bevel escaped its key. A mandible
beyond its prey an arrow all shaft in each
one its torso oddly pierced and tails that spring
like thistle weed a root that wears a vacant stay
and tacky to the touch its itch to form a place
gone red with

2
poem

I have enough times been the ampersand,
the hitch between two vehicles
the vehicle itself careening questionably
up the mountain road, which is,
in my opinion, poorly designed, a hazard.
It is sometimes called the coast,
the coastal highway, but never
the cliff-side transfer

poem

As a feral thing would. As a dead leaf
whose crunch she herself hears, whose

buggy interior floods the sidewalk. Beamy
the world, yet a blank all the same.


Where you’ve tucked your pen into your notes,
I tuck my fingernail, burned and cursed and

shut tight my