Rattleweed

That big bad dog
really lets her have it,

but her piss-soaked petals
gleam amber
if the sun hits her just right,

and though minced,
that soggy vision stands.

How day’s big bad hand
coaxes off each petal,
indigo scabs bow down,
until she is nothing
but spine.

Front page image by Miss Turner.

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Jamie McGraw

About the Author

Jamie McGraw lives in, and sometimes leaves, Charlotte, North Carolina. She is currently enrolled in Queens University of Charlotte's MFA program. Previous work has been published in the APA journal Families, Systems, and Health, Red Fez, r.kv.r.y quarterly literary journal, and Beatdom. Her spirit animal is a lobster. Don’t ask. (Actually, no. Do. Do ask.)
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