The Devoted Cloud

The wounded grass woke up as snow. The word ghost asked for
bread. The dust nodded. The house combed the attic. The speaker
closed in on a sister’s lids.

The Eagle’s Doubles

The camera allowed two small children to try on the flag’s new fangs.

The Exposed Storm

The film of a glass of milk flooding the building filled the torn apart
piano filled the closed casket of a demolished photograph of the sea
in the child’s chest.

The Marionette’s Casket

The crossed out clone minus the wooden organs minus the puma
projection minus the splintered mirage minus the orphaned eyes.

The Membrane’s Collapse

The sleeper orbited the topiary ocean. The glass arms swam into
the branches of a swan. The outstretched stranger dissolved. The
solution steeped. The cornered squid stormed the shore.  

Eric Baus is the author of Scared Text (Colorado Prize for Poetry), Tuned Droves (Octopus Books), and The To Sound (Verse Press/Wave Books). He lives in Denver.