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Β©2018 Barren Magazine. An Alt.Lit Introspective.

It’s Just That Sometimes I Feel Trapped


by Megan Neville

He refuses to eat vegetables
from our garden, says nothing

grown half a mile from a steel mill
can be safe. What about me, then?

But I, I refuse to be a real mother.
My body is not a home for anyone

but me and you, and nothing grown
so close to this mind can be safe.

That first summer while digging in the
yard I found a dog skeleton enveloped

in fur, punctuated by sinew, protected
in rest by a proverbial tomb curse.

Was it always that I cannot look
into both his eyes at the same time,

or only since the beginning of After?
When he dies I will wear a memorial

pinch of his ashes around my neck, a
dutiful partner as these leaden puddles

recede from my ankles, the itch of lace
like bees droning beneath my skin.

Header photograph Β© Jason D. Ramsey.

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