We decided to build tree houses for them, then take away the ladders. It was windy when they first went up, and near dusk. Trapped up high, they stared at us, mumbling. The trees shook. Their hair whipped behind them, blew into their faces and mouths. The sound of their weeping was plastic bells, and dog claws on kitchen floors. When it rained that night, most of the twins washed away. A few shrunken pieces stuck to telephone poles, a few hung from power lines.
Christine Hamm has a PhD in American Poetics, and her third book of poems, Echo Park, came out from Blazevox in the fall of 2011. The New Orleans Review published Christine's latest chapbook, A is for Absence, in the fall of 2014, and nominated her work for a Pushcart.