coming February 2016 from WordTech Editions.
Cati Porter knows that the domestic sphere is a space full of knives, that a human is a zoo animal, and that a lover is someone who holds your hair while you vomit. With plenty o' nods to Plath and looking-glass Alice, the language in My Skies of Small Horses is like a steep spiral staircase with a velvet bannister, tricky and lush and twisting. It's a poetry of the "haunted, the unhung and moonsung, the run and the con."
~ Arielle Greenberg
My Skies of Small Horses
Here, hold the reins. My hands are sweaty.
The reins are made of words.
From beneath the red bench
the natty blanket. Wool. Yes.
See it unfold across the strangely handsome,
unsettled plain. This is not
your story. Accordion answers fan
in the shape of a long hour
silvered, and shimmering. But rather.
If you would, turn the knob. See. The image
flickers, goes prehistoric
until we are both, and neither.
The apple is only a ruse. I throw it
up. Predictably it has
not fallen. The sky
is a cannon of leaden apples.
Lead the little horses out.
Pre-order information coming soon.