Seventh Place: Fiona Stanton

Dior Rouge 999
            Bain de Pied, Sarah Moon

You want me
            to suck marrow
from raw, singed hair,

but mine is
            a feudal infancy
and a ghostly shade

half-way withered.
            You want me
for my witch blood,

my icebox skin(it
            burns under
kinds of light)

and the smoke
            which comes
off me

all hours of the night.

Put me in
            a washtub.
Feed me the violent

ends of flowers.
            My fingers
find religious openings

in tree trunk,
             plant life, electrical
sockets and pumps—

shine your light
             on me. I’m dead &
flush against kitchen tile,

I find myself
to desire and you—

then I stop.
scare me away,

they make me
            blind. Alien

make winters of us all.