bitch circles
bare legs
you step inside my silo
red with
a taxidermy boar head
slid over your face
meet me at the dirt I had written
slotted posted into your barn door
you come running earth legged with the cur
bitch slopping
at your knee
you say, hey uh before
press step over half outside
me inside I hummer
nose roses
with some sows’ delight
you say, your face (point) some blood there
and I say, oh
hold my left to my face
like this
the cur bitch she nuzzles
piglets leftover
poison bone runts
holds their boulders of shit in her mouth
you swing your daddy’s deer hoof knife
play sun tag with the bitch
like an actor
moving ear from behind curtain
my mother would hate how I pet the cur’s head
my barefoot flat
with the ball
I roll the skin
forward slow growl
simper then belly down
quick release slap the wrinkles back
immaculate as they have ever been tan tan
and you’re on me
pash patch this is all by eye of the silo
green from sea fog
wet weeds by the edges the cur
bitch closes the door snick
your hand on my dress buttons feel the seep there
say, you’re spotting
I say, it’s not mine
and the cur sniffs up
my back pawing at your legs
twin fleabit eyes greying
shavings in my black hair
the way I watched as your mask fell off
and got gnawed by the drift
my lure august california
something a hand reaching
cupping from underground
I find purchase then yank double
yank you to make you need me
Maya Stahler is a poet from Oregon who is currently a poetry MFA candidate at the Iowa Writers' Workshop. Her most recent work appears/is forthcoming in Diagram,, Bull Shit Lit, Anthropocene and elsewhere. @MayaStahler
