Wake

Penelope, what are you going to do

with that body? You’ve laid it

out in the kitchen and waited

for the ants to

come, and they’ve come

 

and carried him away in ticks

and brushstrokes, a crumb of color,

a coin, a thread

from a funeral veil you can’t

hold together.

 

He’s coming back, salt-preserved

imposter to his own

memory—Penelope, what

are you going to do

with that body?

Copyright © 2016 Clarissa Grunwald.

Clarissa Grunwald retains all rights to this work, granting Fickle Muses one-time, non-exclusive electronic publication rights. Please contact the creator to request permission for reprints or other uses of this work.

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