by Sarah Ahlgrim

:in hollows

lapsing with morning

we subsist on gaps and fissures

you, idle in the doorway

say you’re too porous

I decide to laze elsewhere

there are raw holes in the cupboards

but I can’t quite fit

I could wrestle with space

under the bed but it’s busy

with broken-down boxes

in the closet’s nooks

between coats

I command hooks to house

my flesh and sentience

if not for bones:

I’d blend with cloth, leave a

layer of me on a hanger

meet you in the hollows between

rooms and ask

is this enough?

instead

I wait between

boots and loose belts

for you to fill me up

---

minute

I shrunk beetle-size

crawled into the light between the windows

you were disrobed

staring into glass

pale skin bright enough to beacon

I leapt to your shoulder

left a bite-mark above your breast

burrowed into the crack between

the rust drain and hot faucet spout

awaiting a flood

---

Sarah Ahlgrim is a native of the northwest and its coldest winters. She writes for the raw reward of writing. Under her maiden name, Borror, her work has appeared in Literary Juice as well as The Mill. You can find her fevered daily posts of poetry at kindcoffeecup.wordpress.com.