CAROLINE CHAVATEL | POETRY

A DAUGHTER KNOWS

re: forever

That it does not exist. That she does not
exist in this marvelous concept. Concerning

the constellations, how they will expire
one day like curdled milk. Concerning the moon

and its dark teeth revolving. Revolving. She knows
that they will fall, the stars, like ceramic
to the floor, and seep out the door like air.

.

.

A DAUGHTER KNOWS

re: skin

how to decipher the brow
………& its irregular arc & how
the night-flies simmer to the light
………that attracts them. She knows
how to mouth no, the shape
………of her lips an opening pit, a snake
bloated & devouring a mouse, open
………for indisputable entry,
& then how to coil herself back
………into crust like a hermit crab nervous
of the most powerful pointer & thumb. But does she
………know the same brow conveying
displeasure is the one also begging
………to enter her home, petitioning
for warmth & no pinches to skin? O god-of-the-roof
………& domestic heaven, does she know she needs
a larger shell for both of them to fit? Does she know
………the contortion it will require?

Caroline Chavatel is a M.F.A. candidate at New Mexico State University where she teaches and is Asst. Poetry Editor of Puerto del Sol. Her work has appeared or will appear in AGNI Online, Gulf Coast, THRUSH Poetry Journal, Fugue, Sonora Review, Hayden’s Ferry Review, and Nimrod, among others. She currently lives in Las Cruces, NM where she is co-founder of Madhouse Press.

2018-04-30T18:39:45+00:00

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