Shari Crane

Drop it Like a Bitch

You once asked if I had more courage than fear?

I asked you for more time to answer.


You didn’t insist on

who you thought I was, and that—

was fresh. But isn’t each lover a mirror?


You taught me fear was a weapon

I turned on myself, and true friends are like whiskey

without the hangover.


I used to gather smiles like dead suns, or rather,

I had a small habit of collecting expensive

friends with thin linings—


A friend like an inside-out banana

A friend like a ball of wool

A friend like a used needle


This is how you sage a spackled past: drop the hand

only one is holding. Trust me, fear inflates the

value of what we clasp.


So I was alone on an old stone bridge when a van

slowed in a crackle of gravel

and blocked my path. He had a knife


and a mask. Sanity is the surety of courage,

or so we begin. I left fear with the other fripperies

for water lush as bathtub gin.




Shari Crane’s poetry appears in The Light Ekphrastic, bottle rockets press, and Beechwood Review, among other places. She lives on Coronado Island.

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