i snagged
the neck i wreckt
the ringer at the crease
a wrinkle timed
immaculately full spine lurch
the 13 pointed teeth gleams
my image like the dart
of crick-hid scales
u knew well
to straighten the teeth
but couldn’t wait to jingle
the coin icy in yr
swollen palm the fat
kernals of corn
the minty floss threaded
blanket stitch n the smell of
winterfresh & blood
u knew better
but yr voice won’t topple the
babbling motor
they touch your arm without asking
call you sugar
yr jaw sore from the clench
-
Lora Kinkade is a queer, rural poet and farmer living in Freestone, California. She received her B.A. of Creative Writing, Poetry from the University of California, Santa Cruz. She was a founding member of the Omni Writing Collective. Her most recent publications include The Bombay Gin, Matchbox Magazine, and The Red Wheelbarrow.