*Not your average publishing company

In a house lit by oil lamps
and candles, sex
had the voltage
to make bones chatter
like telegram wires.

If you can strike a bargain
of body for acres, then flint
this flesh, let the skin
sizzle.  Bring on the per-
petual bridegroom.

Moths lay larvae in the silk
of green stalks. Stink bugs
suck juice from fruit leaves.  So
barter hips for apples.  Swap soil
for spit.  Wager this tongue for
that field.  But think

of her body, naked
as a leaf, naked as
an open bottle
while she burned
through the night
like a banker.

Stephanie McConnell is from Lancaster, Pennsylvania.  Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Paterson Literary Review, The Ponder Review, River Heron Review, the Under Review, The Dewdrop, and The Worcester Review.  She now lives in New England, but still only writes about Pennsylvania.

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