Hammers

Russ Woods
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Sara was in a room full of hammers. There were probably 10000 hammers in this room. Sara was shin-deep in hammers. There were no shelves or drawers or hooks, nowhere to put the hammers. Sara shuffled her feet and moved around the room, pushing the hammers out of the way. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. A trap door or something. Sara didn’t find any trap door, after spending a long time moving her feet around, through the hammers. She picked a couple up and threw them around, just because. She took a big one and used the hammer to hammer on the other hammers. She lay down on top of the hammers like it was a hammer-beach made of hammer-sand. The ceiling was white, and Sara told it hello. That was the first time anyone had ever talked to that particular ceiling. Sara thought about her childhood and her parents. About her dog. Where was her dog?

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Russ Woods is a poet living in Chicago. He is the author of Wolf Doctors (Artifice Books, 2013) and editor of Love Symbol Press & Red Lightbulbs. He also runs the poetry series POETRY MADE OF DIAMONDS. His work is published or forthcoming in Diagram, H_ngm_n, Barrelhouse, Pank, HTMLgiant, Mud Luscious, and Pear Noir! solarflareshavebeenknowntocauseheartache.com