Quarantine
The me in the mirror
says, You are
a woman. The me
in the room asks When
did I stop being
rain? I grind my legs
down on dirt roads until
I can’t hear the clock
that’s been ticking
inside me since
my first dog died.
A miracle my egg sandwich
this morning. My brother texts
I am so lonely. Somewhere
my mother drinks
tawny port and counts
her years. Knees hurt
sometimes. And chests.
And waiting can become
a hurt living in the air
between our bodies.
Stacy Boe Miller is a prose writer and a poet. Her work can be found in The Sun, Copper Nickel, Mid-American Review, Bellingham Review, Terrain.org, and other journals. Her book Ready to Answer With Hunger is out now from C&R Books. Her book I Sharpen My Teeth was a finalist for the Wheeler Prize, The Jake Adam York Prize, and The Poetry Book Prize with Barrow Street Press. More of her work, including information about the WorkWhile podcast can be found at stacyboemiller.com.
Currently Reading:
"The Genius of Birds" by Jennifer Ackerman
"Live Caught" by R. Cathey Daniels
Latest issue of "Copper Nickel" (“which is so good!” - Stacy Boe Miller)
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