poem16 Oct 2022 04:02 pm
Rebecca Bennet
"When did you stop looking at the moonlight?"
He asks from behind the cash register of a family store
remembering a shadow of us
in formation on the field
echoing the same howls of our fathers
He's looking at a body no longer lithe and hairless
sees I've copied my father's yawns instead
and knows that howling is meant for
girls with bleached incisors
with makeup as sharp as a claw
I don't say there are other blood calls now
new places that make my heart thrum
people who make my insides itch
I don't tell him that
he's still howling but hasn't shifted
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