swing-shift ruckus

Kathleen Winter

cool mud   a cut
whose red hugs bone
where slag rock sank
through his leather
hide below an eye
all spilling out

from Larch’s bar
when their tough words
took bite to spoil
the blue kiss of
our drink bruise each
man’s wavering

cloud of self
frog-quick to leap
hot for the throat
of him who’d doubt
its strength       say Dog

—enough to start it

Kathleen Winter is the author of Nostalgia for the Criminal Past, which won the 2013 Texas Institute of Letters first book award. The collection I will not kick my friends won the 2017 Elixir Poetry Prize.
Originally published:
November 1, 2017

Featured

Rachel Cusk

The novelist on the “feminine non-state of non-being”
Merve Emre

Books

Renaissance Women

A new book celebrates—and sells short—Shakespeare’s sisters
Catherine Nicholson

Fady Joudah

The poet on how the war in Gaza changed his work
Aria Aber

You Might Also Like

For a Dog

Ryan Wilson

Wildness

Feminism, identity, and the willingness to be defeated
Maria Tumarkin

The Wild, Sublime Body

Learning how to be human
Melissa Febos

Subscribe

New perspectives, enduring writing. Join a conversation 200 years in the making. Subscribe to our print journal and receive four beautiful issues per year.
Subscribe