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John Reed | Word Riot
Poetry | June 15, 2013

61 by John Reed

She got every single thing she wanted by avoiding smiling liars like me. She knew better than to trust these jackals, with their arrow eyes and teeth like cold air, with their laughter, their true-sounding laughter, about lions who didn’t make the kill. The lions, they say, don’t come until dawn, long after the last child has been felled, after the loin is stripped from the giraffe, after fear cuts time and shows time to fear.

But Elizabeth, when you spoke to us all, book in hand, not sure who would save you, you turned right to me, reached just

Poetry | December 15, 2011

26 (more Ann) by John Reed

How is it you would rely upon me? I would lie at your command, relied upon. The words of the promise, I read, writ large, to meet the larger vow to the larger read— and provisos and riders shall rest in peace, assured safe keep, and devotedly prayed upon. Rely upon me and the harder reads with ease, hour on hour shall be reliably free. Rely upon me to honor my wards, to be to you doubly true, or true to none, to undertake the blest and the holy. Rely upon me as if the ice age moaned the vow