Island of Misfit Kids by Cara Feral

I once told you that I would be the
toad to your frog if you didn’t mind
eating wet sandwiches with me
I would have told you I had a decoder
and a phone in my shoe if it meant
that you would love me like a spy
Turned out I don’t like to be shaken
or stirred, I am a spilled cup of coffee
Pitch black like the insides of a cancer cell
Or the endless nights of grim horror
that come with watching your fetus
crawl down a beige, shower drain
Dead baby sparrows and rotting deer
carcasses never bothered me before
Now I want to crawl between my knees
like they taught us when the bomb dropped
I just want to sew up this split atom
Swoop up all the fallen beaks and wings
Sail into the sun, tear down heaven’s gate
Cast out all the perfect angels and gods
Burn their eyes with cigarette butts
Invite the island of misfit toys inside
Make right the train with square wheels,
the swimming bird, and my lifeless doll.
Photo by Lucas Craig on Pexels.com

About the Poet:

Cara Feral is from the high plains of Laramie, Wyoming. She earned a physics degree in Kutztown University. She later dropped out of a full ride scholarship to study astrophysics at Louisiana State University to go hike the Appalachian Trail. Since then she has “thru” hiked The Appalachian Trail two times, the 2600 mile long Pacific Crest Trail and the 3300 mile long Continental Divide Trail. Eventually she wants to be the first trans woman to complete the quadruple crown by hiking the 4600 mile North Country Trail. These days she quarantines inside the cozy confines of her apartment with her cat and boyfriend in Eugene, Oregon. 

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