Listen to Frank Stanford Turning 30
read by Adam Love
Fayetteville, Arkansas June 3, 1978 final echo of heartbeat as he raises the pistol to his chest and sheds his skin he will never feel his hands again tapestries of wild orchids paint the moon on the battlefield where only it can say I love you poor Frank he wants to know why but already knows the answer tears in his napkin sobbing only brings out the best in me he thinks goddamn these bullets their conversations were vacant the scent of snow in his nostrils the cool evening waiting a cooing dove its wing trapped under the tread of his front tire where its shadow will be the only light the dead see while the moon pulls blood from its many lovers flowers burning in a jar two women set out a dish of milk to tell his story to the living