Gospels of Gabions

In Poetry on September 23, 2012 at 11:27 pm

She’d have told him,
it was his heart,
beating too loud.
Crashing against his ribs,
like the waves, trembling
in rhythm with the Rusalka.
Against a day
that was chased and butchered,
on splintered knees,
hung, open-bellied, between
pews shifting at the bottom
of the sea, by
the night that ate
the footprints of soldiers
wading through rusted gabions.

But without fruit, she sank
with the weight
of the church mouse’s morsels.

And was dismantled with the city in the sea.


Shaina Mugan is a product of Drake University.  She recently had to be dragged from China, where she spent a year instructing British Literature and English.  She presently resides in Baltimore, MD, where she constructs tin-can telephones. She is currently focusing her second manuscript.  You can find her work most recently in Stone Highway Review, Short, Fast, and Deadly, and Quantum Poetry Magazine.  More at – http://shaina-mugan.tumblr.com



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