top of page
Furrow
ROBERT BEVERIDGE
[pdf]
the back of my leg: crimson
gash, ragged edges. The bacteria
are still hungry, burrow
through dermis, into muscle.
Nurses come three times a day,
debride the river with spillways
of steel wool, feed it
with tributaries of Cipro.
I lie in bed and wait
to see who will next don
the biohazard gear,
come visit me.
ROBERT BEVERIDGE (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry on unceded Mingo land (Akron, OH). He published his first poem in a non-vanity/non-school publication in November 1988, and it's been all downhill since. Recent/upcoming appearances in The Bamboo Hut, Password, and The Stray Branch, among others.
bottom of page