Samuel Hovda
ANGEL OF THE MERIDIAN

Step out of the cave of my mouth.

Wear your golden earrings
like snakes eating.
Put on your

purple eye shadow.
The daggers

have mostly withdrawn,
green of the vipers fallen off.
A few stray villages at night
with stones,
palm-sized and ready,

but you’re the robin
in the morning

unaware of the innards
of their dark bedrooms.

Sunday morning.
With you here, mothers

shield their children.

You, fishbone. You, caught in God’s throat.

Samuel Hovda was born and raised in rural Minnesota. He now attends the MA program in Creative Writing at the University of Wisconsin–Eau Claire. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Cleaver Magazine, Contrary Magazine, Noble / Gas Qtrly, and elsewhere. You can find him at SamuelHovda.com and on Twitter @SamuelHovda.

Read more from Cleaver Magazine’s Issue #12.