I apologize in advance for the lengthiness of this poem, but it couldn't be helped. In my poetry workshop, we are reading Craig Arnold's second (and final, as he died a year after it was published) book, Made Flesh. I really enjoy Arnold's poetry because of the way it mixes narrative drive with lyric intensity in such a masterful way. I think this is a cool collection, and this poem starts the book off with a bang. Enjoy!
Incubus, by Craig Arnold
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