“Needlepoint” and other poems by Erin Vance

Hiraeth In the turpentine afternoon I wanted to beat my wings— hollow so hollow. And in the rectal evening 
I wanted to be a hummingbird. A hum m ing bird. In the frost-swept night I wished you a Lamb. Soft like cotton balls and languid with musk. Turn me into a violent fresco,
 Lamb, and [...]