nest

I was on the balcony waiting for the storm
ultra-low
mid-morning
still smelling like you
your salt
thinking about vertebrae and black shoes
reverse voyeurism, you said,
blessed virgin,
we’re at the edge of the wood
edge of the wood edge of the
wood
I’m kneeling
wearing antlers I cut from your head
bleeding in places I don’t feel pain
and insisting
that Evangeline Downs
is not what it sounds like

you were last online 9 minutes ago

viscera
(exposed)
but being slowly dusted with those little white flowers
(honeysuckle?)
dislodging from the bush
(continuously)
this time of year
I’ll wait
while the sky burns behind me
for five minutes
(no longer!)
and if you’re not here by then,
the sweet thing
(smooth, pink, ah!)
will die
is that what you want?
is it?

~~~

Carrie’s work has appeared in Peach Mag, Maudlin House, Spy Kids Review, tenderness, yea, and The Pendulum. There are very few places she wouldn’t eat a peanut butter sandwich. Tweets at @heyy_carrie_ann