The Plague Doctor
by Garrett Burrell
cover art by Elisa Carozza

1. 25 Inosculations
2. (Scything in Charleville)
3. The cliff wall wounds the horn of the stampeding passenger train
4. Making station without a language
5. At the bottom of the mine: a reposed canary
6. In X-rays: a bright fracture
7. Each a scaffold on a scaffold, where they are heaving
8. Tousle the chimes
9. (The stalks switching hard on the stripped chest, scored with private hieroglyphs)
10. Draws back, culls out, fluttering; floored by that gravity, plumbed and sighing
11. Condos and the old adobe abodes, sumped together in the soft window embrasure yellows
12. From a coastal nave, on the recurrently smoothed ocean
13. The moon levitating over water
14. While bats fumble groggily from their sockets starving
15. Changed into the sound of kisses, shadows of salavation
16. For a moving center of echolocation, sparks in the air
17. More frequent then, sheets of lightning, almost touching
18. While barks traveling over water beat the surfaces
19. Gleaming skins shifting places off and on an unseen rock
20. Mixes, in the shot of the report of the
21. Mixed, grouts the flawed walls
22. Waiting out the gap in the watch's patrol
23. Two bubbles, seen from above, rising to the surface
24. Bodies pitched together in the hold over the suffering things hold
25. Waiting out the

Greenland

So we began calling our city something more pleasant, and forgot finally
where we were. Warehouse conversions were popping up all over, so naturally
we moved in too. On the shelves we discovered the curious labels
weren't only changed, but totally switched around; though, shrugging, we just ate
whatever it was. Something nasty was being kept inside a neighbor's house - 
and though we knew better - it didn't stop us from developing over
the walls as if we were dared to. Our lives fluctuated ahead of us
with every move we made. Everyday more people inhabited the old buildings - 
every night we went out wearing less - the breeze reminding us of islands.
We didn't know the names for the insects that starting blowing in.

Garrett Burrell edits poetry for the online literary magazine At-Large. He lives in Bushwick, Brooklyn, where he is working on a poetry book about Charles Darwin, Alfred Russel Wallace, and evolution.

Cover art by Elisa Carozza. Elisa Carozza-Kuhl lives and works in Oakland, California, where she and her husband operate a picture framing shop, Kuhl Frames + Art. Elisa has been painting for over twenty years and has exhibited her semi-abstract atmospheric paintings at galleries, art centers, and local museums. View more of her work at elisacarozza.com.