She is a good patient, carries her body
like a brighter coat. Her throat,
the please, dirty little nail
buried inside. Records her cycle
in a red notebook—
numbers grow cellular
across the page. Not enough
hormones. Not enough
to name the infinite
miniature faces flowering.
Division is a lesser hope.
A scrim cast across the coastline.
She is a slow dog. Her tongue
tips in the wanting
even a single stone holds.
CARRIE BENNETT is a Massachusetts Cultural Council Artist Fellow and author of biography of water, The Land Is a Painted Thing, Lost Letters and Other Animals, and several chapbooks from dancing girl press. She holds an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and teaches writing at Boston University. She lives with her family in Somerville, MA.
