attractive older women
move their skin and hair and it’s the sound of bulls rushing
string their bones to be plucked by no one
are a cistern a druid launches himself towards
are not us but are are like us in that they want too much or nothing
if they’re thrumming rain on a school morning, we’re a big dog on a short leash
attractive older women miss people on television more than they miss real
iiiiiipeople
leave parts of themselves in vestibules, on landings
get lost in long yellow grasses
causing us to dream they’re cats hell bent into a curl
of night wind but really they’re all root and claw and there is no coin
that can get them back or turn them into a whole other animal
their numbers are sufficient to repopulate the island
sometimes you walk in on them accidentally as they’re nailing their husks to the
iiiiiiwall
recognize them by their mouths
fickle but fuckable, contained in beauty, with eyes like jars
Author Bio:
Andrea Rae Perkins edits the webzine Otis Nebula. Her work has appeared in Zocalo Public Square, Girls With Insurance, New West, and elsewhere. She lives in Tennessee and Hawaii.
Love this poem. Do you have a book. Also, would love a copy to share with friends.