Kat Dixon / Planetary Mass
Kat Dixon is poetry editor of Divine Dirt Quarterly and author of Kississippi (an e-chap from Gold Wake Press). Her work has recently appeared or is forthcoming in blossombones, Indefinite Space, Otoliths, Clockwise Cat, and elsewhere.
On Mercury (It Could Be)
No one said that women tell
stories in squares, even during
tornado season, even when you were
not purposefully longwinded and I
was arched into macaroni with my
dizzy spells. Or was it you under the
canal with the almost sugared galley
proofs and the Doll’s Eyes we planted
on the day we made it to dinner on time?
A blow-fly lit in weeds below my hiccups
while I was standing in the one spot where
someone else intended to step – or maybe I
was fevered in the green sheets with too
many legs. There was a charge of temper
and thin lips, but the follow-up was all
signatures. Appendix-wise: a crooked cervix;
not a crater, not a misplaced finger, digested
asteroid, crinkled headboard child-knot.
I’m only testing water when I say:
Good then. It’s practically settled.
When March subsides, I’ll be someone
who names things, and I’ll do it in
St. Petersburg (and we’ll both forget the
month I spent waiting to grow a light bulb).