by Melodie Bolt

I’ve seen the ink wings swoop to the dying rabbit,  

beak pulling skin and muscle from the alabaster bone, 

heard the rabbit’s squeal against nature’s betrayal. 

The crow does what he has to.  

Your lips ask forgiveness for your hoarded women,  

where you made some peace my bitter body could not offer.  

How frail my eyes under your heavy hands.  

But I can’t hear your words over the needle’s singing,  

the wind’s whistle as my arm dips and pulls, 

as I sew my sinew and skin back together. 

This door unlatches when you’ve gone.  

Martha on Dearborn isn’t far away.  

My head inclines toward that avenue’s shadows.  

The rabbit does what she has to.    

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Melodie Bolt, city of Flint resident, has been a member of the Flint Area Writers for over a decade. She earned her MA from University of Michigan-Flint in English, Composition and Rhetoric, and her MFA in Writing from Pacific University with a focus on poetry. Her work has appeared in Prairie Schooner, Pasque Petals, Verse Wisconsin, Deakin University’s ‘Windmills’and Yellow Medicine Review. She is a lifetime member of the Science Fiction Poetry Association. 

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