Diorama 1871 (say her name four times)

By CATIE ROSEMURGY

Jane loved her and often thought of her skin. 
Its misleading surface area always moved her, how it wrapped around 
and became infinite. 

While Jane never existed, 
her sudden sexual hungers and more frequent tenderness 
most likely did.

Oh, Jane. You aren’t a child anymore.
Here’s a pinewood doorway for you to stand in.

You started off as a tree,

one of the squat, 
twisted, reaching 
varieties that only 
grows in the center
of a field after
sundown. 

The sky is pink and internal behind you, 
and you are an outline of a thing, Jane, 

a thing that happened here. 
That’s why you can’t walk away.

 

Catie Rosemurgy is the author of two books of poems, My Favorite Apocalypse and The Stranger Manual. She is the recipient of fellowships from the Pew Charitable Trusts, the NEA, and the Rona Jaffe Foundation. She lives in Philadelphia and teaches at the College of New Jersey.

[Purchase Issue 28 here.]

Diorama 1871 (say her name four times)

Related Posts

Close-up images of cardboard boxes.

More to the Story

MICHAEL DAVID LUKAS
My Grandma Betty’s garage, like the rest of her house, was always neat and well-labeled. The tools hung in their places. The floor was swept clean. Along the walls, DIY wood shelving was stacked high with boxes labeled according to their contents. Herb Toys. Xmas Decorations.

Image of laundry hanging on a line.

Real Estate for the Blended Family (or What I Learned from Zillow)

ELIZABETH HAZEN
Sometimes I dream of gardens— // that same dirt they kick from their cleats could feed us, / grow something to sustain us. But it’s winter. // The ground is cold, and I dare not leave this room; / I want to want to fix this—to love them // after all—but in here I am safe.

Closeup of empty double bed

Little Women

MEGAN TENNANT
Before we peel off to bed, Ruth suggests we close with a prayer. We all bow our heads, the buzz of the fluorescent light and grasshoppers growing louder in the silence. I hear the tones of my dad—earnest, grateful—and I feel my head become heavy, my closed eyes twitching.