About the Author:
Maggie Ginestra has previously had poems published in Cairn: and The Sow's Ear Poetry Review.
The Stalactites under Mt. Soofreemio
In a dream I am slim again
in one of Henry Darger’s caves,
my breasts—skinned butters—
having slipped off and blown
home. I have loins of air
with fragile hair, just
a poof of banana gnats.
I’m beautiful as dirt
freshly shat by worms—
such a black
could be anything tweaked—
a green, a blue, a brown?
I’m indecipherable as
the two mirrors
who stare each other to dust.
Along the frayed underbelly
of earth, my bird-cries
gather in puddles.
My gummy gape, little
oval hunger,
wobbles ladderless
beneath the rocky teats.
I smell a strange lava—
melted spatula, wet dog—
and I run, not caring as
the caves change their colors.
I run, leaving a dead skin
trail of ash
and I dream I am a rabbit
but I’m not.
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