(I) feeling me

slowly
I will drip myself, in slivers
down your open throat

then I’ll laugh to see you
cough me up

(II)  u(s)

look at you
the pulp of skin
built up under
my nails

look at us
the two jackals
convulsing in
the dark

(III) seen

because
look—rip it open and see
the things that sulk and hide in there
the things we can’t imagine there
things too ugly for a name, that live without a face

look at what
the lacking says about it all
look at all
the space it’s taking up

(IV) in vade

The skin is always red and raw
around the point of entry—
stretched and hot with the
infection pressing in

(V) reminiscing frederick

do you have the same memory of that same day
when at last the sun had fallen dead from the sky
and you and I tucked sweetly under sloping lengths of attic rafter
me asking as always
wouldn’t you like someone better
someone bigger
stronger
to take care of you
when nothing else would be there
under palm trees
scattered grains of sand like countless limbs


Kira Geiger is an MFA student at Florida Atlantic University. Although her focus is Creative Nonfiction, she has made a constant, messy habit of poetry writing since she was in the second grade.