I am ready to catch car fire like a virus. I barrel around with nothing inside or everything inside. I resist becoming chores and runny noses. They say I must be a mama bear without the heavy fur. I carry around my empty honey pot in the trunk. I am words that rhyme with other words. What you can’t scratch, a female dog sullen in heat. I’m in love with five different people. They have dark hair. They are collective. Some of them won’t touch my skin. I’m coatless in the car seeping into the school parking lot. I wait for Monday to start the engine. I wait to see if reality steps in like a latte and I drink it down as if their names are on the side of the cup.
Sarah Lilius is the author of four chapbooks including GIRL (dancing girl press, 2017) and Thirsty Bones (Blood Pudding Press, 2017). Some of her publication credits include the Denver Quarterly, Court Green, BlazeVOX, Bluestem, Tinderbox, Stirring, Luna Luna Magazine, Entropy, and Flapperhouse. She lives in Arlington, VA, with her husband and two sons. Check out her website: sarahlilius.com.