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.
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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