Ally Young is currently an MFA fellow in poetry at Syracuse University. She is the recipient of the Academy of American Poets Prize as well as the John Crowe Ransom Prize for Poetry at Kenyon College. Her work has been published in several print and online journals, including Bluestockings, The Fairytale Review, and Borderlands: The Texas Poetry Review. She has lived and worked in New Jersey, Ohio, Texas, and New York.
Oakley
How many times have you seen the clouds crack black and shell out their deep blues heard the stars wail in chain links blamed your bad luck on moons on bad voodoo when was the last time you ran halfway across the country with a mutt in your arms nailed a house together sewed a shirt together melted two ends together willed your self together, your wolf family entreats you. Have you nearly drowned in a lake, shot eighteen quail straight in the carotid have you been eleven, fourteen, nineteen, twenty one, said the wrong thing screamed Ohio, here is where I live, here is Ohio where I had my first drink, Ohio where I spent all my money, Ohio where I lost my mind for you. I want to hold your whole in my hand, an entire state, a broken bone, a bleeding crow, and sharp shoot it to shit.