This week, a poem by Holly Mitchell.
Bird When Carved
The demonic is leanly maroon
cateye liner with monkstraps to match.
Tugging the merrythought apart
I feel short & enormous
goddess of reluctant fertility
almost ovulating agleam in patent
leather or mucus. I haven’t said
a word but between my neck & breast
I carry hers. She says sex is irreplaceable
all language tropic. There’s nothing
I wouldn’t read the beginning of.
——
HOLLY MITCHELL is a poet from Kentucky, now based in New York. Holly received an MFA in Creative Writing from New York University and has poems in Baltimore Review, Juked, and Narrative, among other journals.
