Morning

We cling to each other like
dust motes to light, and
fall the same way – slow and
landing in erratic patterns.

Your hands like twin moons
to an alien sea.

We spill over.
.

.

hounds

without milk to wash down
a lump of angel food cake

the dogs might come for you,
for the spongy pit in your chest

barking and blue,
their ears ready
and wild

hounding after the thick
sweetness of you that
you just cannot

force down

.

.


Mariel Fechik is a musician and writer from Chicago. She sings in the band Fay Ray and is a music writer for Atwood Magazine and Third Coast Review. She was recently chosen as a finalist for the Real Good Poem Prize from Rabbit Catastrophe Review. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Lines + Stars, Noble / Gas Qrtly, Sundog Lit, Glass, and others.