Me, young and girlish, flesh not yet mourning.
A brittle twist and up blooms my yearning.
Turn me now, wrench my back, I’ll pop a dream
of candied purring. The neighbor men bear
down on the mowers’ fragile gaskets
And dream of sex while the weight of caskets
Is a memory stain on their shoulders,
Oh, the heaving of their fat dead brothers
Into the yawning rectangles of dirt.
And, yet beyond reason, they still flirt with
thawing, thawing, thawing. And I’m nothing
but a filament for youth’s fine moth-wing.
Julianna Baggott is a poet, fiction writer, and essayist who also publishes under the names Bridget Asher and N. E. Bode. She has published more twenty books to date, including the Pure trilogy, Lizzie Borden in Love, and, most recently, Harriet Wolf’s Seventh Book of Wonder. She lives in Florida, where she teaches at Florida State University.