by Lena Ziegler
and I want someone to notice
my skin sewn crooked from patches of light
I know women embarrassed to be naked in the presence of no one
no one a self they have selved into being
I know a man whose bones linger exposed
whose muscles tense when touched
I know a man I almost loved who loved
the color thighs shine when they creak open
maybe this is a poem about letting in
and out, maybe this is a poem about
before the earth grew moldy with people
there was a patch of bright expanding
I’ve been tangled in the rot or rivers
run dry from exhaustion I’ve been
the river running from
no one
a self I’ve selved
a cage-heart I’ve settled into
speak to me orange and I will burn down this mountain
ember me lightning-lit and I will open
&
Lena Ziegler
Lena Ziegler is the author of MASH (The A3 Press) and editor and co-founder of The Hunger. She was a finalist in the Autumn House Press 2018 Fiction contest and the 2017 Goldline Press Non-fiction contest. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Indiana Review, Split Lip Magazine, Dream Pop Press, Yes, Poetry, The Seventh Wave, Gambling the Aisle, Literary Orphans, The Flexible Persona, Anti-Heroin Chic, and others. She holds an MFA from Western Kentucky University and is pursuing her Ph.D. at Bowling Green State University.
Artist: Indigo