[it would be heroic]
if she could act about the bee sting. if she could show the bones. if she could break the skin. if she could run, run run. hit along the way. duck cover burrow in sewers stalk in treetops. breathe every day. sleep soundly. keep breathing. breathe. be conscientious. run. run run run run run. stay focused. not stop. lie through a submissive smile and perhaps a curtsey. give them nothing they want while letting them think they aren’t losing a thing. never let them realize they are losing anything. then they cry. that’s unnecessary noise, run run ru r. wait for fir lakes to freeze and glide across them like a breath of wind,
During the homily,
I found your reincarnation and
covered my teeth.
Last night, your ghost, a sheath
kneeled against the
arm and ivy of the
floral couch, sour colored beside the
elbow of the staircase, screaming
It’s only ever me.
At times I think I can make out the
fishy smell of the springtime trees and
your eyes, wide as the moon and
dark as the dirt it shines upon,
gazing into my body, reflected golden in
goldenrod in both eyes.
You beckon at the windowsill.
My feet kick to come to you.
There’s a stranger in your seat and
in two years he will drown me.
M. Eileen writes near water. Her poetry and prose have been featured in Hanging Loose, After the Pause, and elsewhere.
Check out our Featured Writer interview with M. Eileen here!