Rime grows the seam
of two halves—the split an atrophy—
bathrooms in one world and a gulch
in another. Ruth’s ghost is a recliner, blacked out
and all the way back. My grandmother
raises my skin and I hear the creak, her
antique chair, her arms purging hypromellose:
I’ve been really good lately.
S.A. Leger is a writer and ornithologist based in St. John’s, Newfoundland (Ktaqmkuk). She is Associate Poetry Editor at Pleiades, and her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Kenyon Review, Third Coast, The Los Angeles Review, Wildness, and The Offing. Her best days are spent at a cabin in the woods with her wife and dachshund.