Charmi Keranen

The Center for Wooden Boats

Alligator gar crawling

beneath her skin.

It’s akin to suturing

cobwebs to moonbeams.

He’s got an itch.

Biting evolution

by a billion degrees.

She only remembers waking up.

Blue-etched keys

to a scratched limousine.

I can separate everything

Alpaca touch at ten.

Cherry wash at three.

She stirs beneath the linens.

He unzips

a dark telephoto lens.

Charmi Keranen has a BA in English from Indiana University South Bend.  She works as a freelance writer and proofreader of court transcripts.  Her work has appeared in Slow Trains Literary Journal, elimae, jmww, The Salt River Review, Stirring, and elsewhere.