Eratio Issue 17






by Brent House





Come hither child cross abides of pain

& wail appulsions against our reconceit body


come broken by thirst born of wind

& descend into a poultice red overlay of sun


come brayt against our paper earth deep pulse

but child you aint gonna die from pain


come hither child draw near with poisonful hands

& your welts shall shine as orrery


come hither child & I will poultice your sting out of spit wood

& the moon will open


come open & fill your hollow blood pools

with a poultice of straw and unbaked clay


come hither child bend to this soil

& fill your pores from the mist of our magnality


come let us take the barbs from your hands

as they trouble this land where we remain


come hither child for your people here have made a colony

& this land we will occupy


child come nest your hand in this smoke

reach deep within this tree & awin honey.










Brent House, a contributing editor for The Tusculum Review, is a native of Hancock County, Mississippi, where he raised cattle and watermelons on his family’s farm.  His first collection, The Saw Year Prophecies, was published by Slash Pine Press.