The Birdhouse Queen
rain fills my shoe or maybe
blood. in another dimension,i just take the shoe off and slip
past the crack on the sidewalkmy skirt stays put and i go home
to eat nachos with all of my friendsin this dimension, i quit
drinking years earlieri save myself from all those gross
college boys, except for that sweetone named gavin—the one with thick
rimmed glasses who kissed me and saidi guess i’m in love. or was it me who said
that? the next morning in his filthy bathroommirror. why else would i fall into the trench
of a man after nine glasses of homemade wineif it weren’t for love? why else would i wear
a skirt so tight i couldn’t run?
The Birdhouse Queen by Laura McCullough | Sandalwood Poetry Reed Diffuser
Laura McCullough is a professor and writer living in New Jersey, USA not far from the ocean. She has won numerous awards and fellowships. Her most recent book is WOMEN & OTHER HOSTAGES, with Black Lawrence Press. Visit her at www.Laura McCullough.org
