Your buttterfly headdress
stills, our bodies
lie on the asphalt, hunger
for bulge or crevices, roots,
a scutter of hooves
across chests.
So does the carnival end,
its unrequited life
lingering in the marrow
like a swallow after dark. You sigh
night &
satellites swarm around lampposts.
The moon drops,
stirs an empty parking
lot, a wolf’s howl
mangles into an oil puddle.
Beatrice Szymkowiak is a French-American writer and scholar. She graduated with an MFA in Creative Writing from the Institute of American Indian Arts and a PhD in English/Creative Writing from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. She is the author of Red Zone (Finishing Line Press, 2018), a poetry chapbook, as well as the winner of the 2017 OmniDawn Single Poem Broadside Contest, and the recipient of the 2022 Agha Shahid Ali Prize in Poetry for her full-length collection B/RDS, published by the University of Utah Press in 2023. Her work also has appeared in numerous poetry magazines.
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
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