the clay beneath the nails and the sun crashing into the day with the familiar ferocity of the last
for every morning I saw him grin wide as Bass Harbor knowing what came next
II. It’s your best trick-
to throw me up against the countertop like I’m a fire you must put out
and then only watch yourself in the mirror
III. I’ve walked hotter coals
to convince myself it was something I’d been given;
a sacrifice all so I could walk home bruised and buy my favorite flowers
IV. for nothing
I’ve driven to that shore and looked up at that cliff
to see the raptors dancing on the dying beams of sunlight sinking
into my dark reflection
V. again
my fingers feel that they are burning and I flinch
when you kiss my stomach. I think forever is a threat.
McCaela Prentice (she/her) is currently living + writing in Astoria, NY. She treats Shark Week like a national holiday. Her poetry has previously been featured in Hobart and Ghost City Review. Her first chapbook, “Junk Drawer Heart,” was published with Invisible Hand Press. Twitter: @mccaelaa; Instagram: @mccaelaa.