Hear the rags settling in my spare room?
No bones remain. I wear sandals
now, mow the lawn on Sundays.
We hum, collide. I like your neck.

This smile takes practice, my lips
too small for teeth. I am greening
with these stews of swamp moss
& mushrooms. It’s been years

since I’ve bitten. See these frostbite
scars? I am still punctuated, Arctic.
I miss some things crisp & larded,
try hard not to see the neighbors

as joints & lobes. My clavicles push
against my skin like sharp wings,
something lycan. This is the opposite
of what’s in your stomach. A fork

standing at attention. Something icy
thumps beneath my shirt, stuttering.
I think you are lemony & attractive
but this is only on the inside.

Susan Slaviero’s first full length collection of poetry, CYBORGIA, is available from Mayapple Press. She has two chapbooks: Apocrypha (Dancing Girl Press, 2009) and An Introduction to the Archetypes (Shadowbox Press, 2008). Her work has appeared in journals Rhino, Flyway, Oyez Review, Artifice Magazine, and others both online and in print. She designs and edits the woman-centered lit zine blossombones.

A Windigo Moves to the Suburbs
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