The one with the delicate ankles, whom Hadês
I eat my dreams with a knife and fork
chopped into bite-sized pieces
all six of Persephone’s swallows
dark juice dribbling down.
Death comes to me, again,
pressing her chapped mouth to the door
until she leaves a wet ring in the wood
mauve arms encircling me like Dawes Gap
dim of night following her in on all fours
like the lumber of a soft black dog.
It’s not as terrible as you’ve been told,
she says, taking my cheeks in two hands,
rings scraping the skin
pale as the blood of butterflies—
her grip so tight she nearly cracks my mandible
eyes leaking out like egg yolks.
Morning scratches its yellow back against the windows again,
paring knife sud soaked in the sink
my hunger simpler than soft soap
The whispered lecture of the wall clock
teaching me not to want.
Laura Ingram is a tiny girl with big glasses and bigger ideas. Her poetry and prose have been published in over sixty magazines and journals, among them Gravel, Tallow Eider Quarterly, and Glass Kite anthology. Laura's first book, a collection of poetry, was released May 2018 with Desert Willow Press, and her second book, a children's story, was released August 2018 with Nesting Tree Books of Raven Publishing. Laura is a creative writing undergraduate and part-time editor. Harry Styles once gave her his water bottle.