Issue # 9 April 2011
Mark Arvid White
Abattoir

we
are
taken
for pesos,
my sister and I,
driven across the big river.

wine,
they
give us.
they call us
by our pretty names,
place us in rooms by candlelight

each
night
the men
have their way.
like butchers they come,
impaling us on sharpened hooks.

Continue next page >>