Catapult Alumni | Poetry

a book named sirianna (for Gunnar Ulstad)

This poem was written by Siriana Helleloid in a 12-Month Poetry Collection Generator taught by Angel Nafis.

differs from the occupation of a country. In that occupation, who gun-whips
the bricklayer to build? Who aims the bricklayer to fire? A list of true facts:

near the falls. As a boy, the bricklayer trekked the mountains on foot to ask
her his fortune. Years later, the reindeer trampled berries the same season

at a typewriter & wrote the witch & bound her in hardcover; years later,
his daughter held the book & said: this name. But, steer the boat backwards

s a different country. Waterfalls plunge down mountains
into fjords & mouths shape different words. There is a wall where they once shot
bodies belonging to names picked at random from the phone book. A team

wrestled in the mountains, & their occupation spread like wildfire. The witch
told the bricklayer that he would live to see one-hundred years. The trolls

bombs into buildings the bricklayer built. The bricklayer trekked the
carried a thermos & cheese sandwiches, learned to lay bricks to care for his mothers

the bullet holes in his breast & years later remembered the number – 24 – in a new
language. The trolls threw bricks at his head & he stole their chocolate & hid it

until no crows could find them. The trolls threw bricks at his workers until he saw
their ribs out of their open skin. The trolls threw bricks at his babies, who

in an elevator shaft with a typewriter & listened to crows on the radio, typing
for help. He lost his hearing after an accident, lost his second language to a stroke,

under his arm when the bricks rained down. He carried his child. The crows
came when the sun rose. The trolls turned to stone, save the ones who didnt.