in youth I sat in desks wonder-eyed: the rivers of bodies
desperate fish on the dock that is love and lust (I howl
this story at you because my hands they are small made
of ungendered earth) everything we have done feels like a
print clear in the sand the gold pillar on a hunched back

wondrous fox-confusion in the city the red wolf of me: you

what part of our rumbling must we sing about? and for them?
the writers who speak of our birth defects? documentaries?

(you have put away your wood-voice you are not here to save)



Chelsea Eckert will be attending UNC Greensboro for her MFA in creative writing in the fall of 2015. Her fiction and poetry, both literary and genre, have appeared or will appear in over twenty print and online venues. Stalk her like a hungry catamount at http://chelseaeckert.me. 


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