Bury Me on the Highway (a golden shovel after Kesha)

by E Kristin Anderson

I breathe the earth, wait for dark dirt just
tipping into another body. Here I watch

the shadow of a bruise press hot into me,
a heavy flood. I follow it like anything I’ve

ever found in the forest. In these veins the sap got
stuck cold hard and I sweat fever. The pines see it—

a comet in the gut, the strike blooming down

to fill this gentle animal with rose petals, to
push us howling into sea. I am the heart of a

catered catastrophe—a bruise’s shadow—a simple
space for everything we abandon in American art.

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E Kristin Anderson

E. Kristin Anderson is a poet and glitter enthusiast living mostly at a Starbucks somewhere in Austin, Texas. She is the editor of Come as You Are, an anthology of writing on 90s pop culture. She is the author of nine chapbooks, including A Guide for the Practical Abductee, Pray, Pray, Pray: Poems I wrote to Prince in the middle of the night, and We’re Doing Witchcraft. Kristin is a poetry reader at Cotton Xenomorph and an editorial assistant at Porkbelly Press. Once upon a time she worked nights at The New Yorker.

Vol. 1 No. 4

Spring 2019

Bury Me on the Highway (a golden shovel after Kesha)