I found the body by the lake. A woman
dipped in silver. She bloomed crystals
in the killing cold. Blue lips iced over.
I touched her skin because she couldn’t
stop me. My fingertip traced from cheek
to anklebone, mapped her curves and lines
and empty veins. She was the hard steel
of a locked door, trigger of an unshot gun.
Her eyes trapped shut beneath silver coins.
I plucked them out, and watched the moon
flood through the holes. It turned me
into silver too.
copyright © 2006
Hawkins lives in Pittsburgh, PA. She has recently been published in
Stirring, The Pedestal Magazine, Half-Drunk Muse, and the New Yinzer anthology, "Dirt".