All my enemies, bargaining with God.
I see them lined up like needles, ready to
aim into me. When I was working in the sex
industry, a man injected my thigh
with an unknown substance. I am guilty
for allowing this, getting paid more
for it to happen. Bring me a fistful
of snow and I will show you something
beautiful, something to make you forget
the instant of divulgence, when you learn
more about yourself than you do
in a dream.
Kate Lutzner’s poetry and stories have appeared in such journals as Antioch Review, Poetry Magazine, Mississippi Review, The Brooklyn Rail, BlazeVOX, Atticus Review and Rattle. She has poetry forthcoming at Barrow Street. She was awarded the Robert Frost Poetry Prize by Kenyon College and was the recipient of the Jerome Lowell Dejur Award and the Stark Short Fiction Prize. She holds a J.D. from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and an MFA from City College.
