in my memory the sky is blown
white !25! the skirt i wear white
a headache becomes my bare shoulders
becomes milk thistle
and he muffles its spine !25! does not shelter me
the trees lean away from us
and are furrowed in their breathing
days after he calls it
the spoils of morning
or he says collecting coins of dew
as i comb through another head of hair
another on the same carpeted grass
didn’t i take delight in my pain
which was the color of dirt
now he is off in a bright country
which could be the country of his body
that once pricked my arms
but handsome and well-fed
and not wed to me
Mackenzie Kozak is a poet living in Asheville, NC. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Boston Review, DIAGRAM, Denver Quarterly, jubilat, Poetry Northwest, Sixth Finch, Verse Daily, and elsewhere. She was a 2018 finalist of the National Poetry Series. Find her online at mackenziekozak.com.