C.M. Keehl | bildungsroman / a lost paradise

CA Feb 5

in good dreams I’m no longer vulpes vulpes
at the table. Fur on back,
lipping a grin. Metaphysis is funny, is
a thing like haha but not ha/ haa a
velvet breath stuck between teeth
when I’m all animal which is to say just

boil canines of my lower jaw to determine
something scientific like age/
how to add time, a kryptonite
& crystals I’m all hungry for
answers to add to the dinner
plate from which I eat with no hands/  feet/
face in place of plates of growth
that often ossifies childhood/
my fragile bones. Who’s to say really
what makes me hard/ how
to forget my duty to womb
& how to finger the rate of exponential

decay. Symbolically time
is process only equal to its hypothetical
potential felt at night in my lucid
being when someone’s older
brother I used to kiss in the backyard when my premolars/
carnassials/ female being didn’t take up too much space,
when everything was in place &

outside of time there is no need for time &
9 years was a kind of freedom felt, paradise
a flower potion:
all milkweed & soft freckling skin.




CM-Keehl-500x750 2C.M. Keehl’s poems appear in / are forthcoming in Unbroken, Reality Beach, Pigeon Holes, Electric Cereal, The Great American Lit Mag, & elsewhere. She is the poetry editor at Dirty Chai. She lives in Grand Rapids with her dog & drinks way too much coffee. @CMKeehl