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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Stevens/Williams
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.