HUSK 1.2

by Jen Ryan Onken

From this dark
hallway the red

light pointing
you -EXIT- step out-

side. Flee
the in-
side. For what
is leaving but

the Slow
Machine wheeling
its rusty gears
to the Outside Place? That sense

we grow further
from The Great Milk

Machine—
what you, Father,
now call The Ice
Box. Once a man

brought bottles
to the stoop. You
tell me this. Your milk
glass

sweats.
You lose it
again. Let it curdle

all afternoon.