The Row

the graveyard is still,

disconsolate silences

between mute rows;

 

I scout the tombstones

for hostile phantasms

and anatomies in the stars;

 

blasé Orion looks bored,

forever hung in that

defiant poise,

 

with your retroussé nose

snubbing our vows

the same way that you did;

 

once I held my breath

as you gelded me

with Delphic words;

 

now, cheek against rimy stone,

vivisecting your language

with tweezers and Greek fire,

 

I bruise the flowerslike your pharynx

in my fist;

 

–what was it you said?

 

 

Contributor’s Notes: Jessica Housand-Weaver is a nationally published creative writer in fiction and poetry as well as an MFA graduate student at The University of Arkansas at Monticello. She graduated from the University of New Mexico with a BA in Anthropology and was nominated for the Jack Kent Cooke Graduate Arts Award. She is also co-editor of UAM’’s new magazine, Gravel: A Literary Journal. Her publication and award credits include or are upcoming in: Stone Soup MagazinePoetic Voices MagazineThe Dark Fiction SpotlightMused-The BellaOnline Literary ReviewMocha Memoirs PressMalpais ReviewPoetry PacificThe New Poet, and Crack the Spine, among others.