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Christopher Woods

Christopher Woods is a writer and photographer who lives in Texas. His monologue show, Twelve from Texas, was performed in NYC by Equity Library Theatre. His poetry collection, Maybe Birds Would Carry It Away, is published by Kelsay Books.

Bead by Bead

At the end of it
my mother grew light.
Seemed hollow the way
bird bones are hollow.
Mom could sit forever
at the breakfast table to finger
her silver rosary strung with blue
glass beads that had small pocks
As some flower seeds are almost
perfect spheres but fall short
have pocks, flaws. Mom said
her quiet Hail Mary’s decade after decade
Until she’d finally doze off somewhere between
“The fruit of thy womb” and “the hour of our death.”

Man Emerging

Used Bike

Rust spots stain
my faded chrome.


My handlebars
veer left.


Gears that slip
and brakes that stick.


A seat that wobbles
riderless.


A few loose spokes.
Both tires worn.


One peddle
sniffing dirt

Red Shirts