about the author

Eric Berge holds an MFA in his pocket. He lives scared and writes clandestinely in Arizona. His work appears. He would love to hear from you if your message isn’t intercepted by the NSA.

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Eric Berge

Shall I uncrumple this
much crumpled me
turning like gray leaves

blue on the floor like
peacock’s wings

like cathedral glass
so like delicious

plums in a frost-filled
jar in the icebox?

Give me hemlock.
I breathed so gentle
so sweet so cold.

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