There is a story Iíve been meaning to tell you,
a comparison between my shrimped and swollen
self and my fatherís awareness of death --
if I could just drop into some confinement
full of someone elseís belongings:
the metal pulleys, binoculars, earthenware
I would feel clothed and wholesome,
a peach with warm sides.
You said instruct me so
I undo everything, unzip
my stomach holding
teapots and traveling bags,
these spill to the ground,
I slide open the front of my legs,
the thighs, my bloated calves holding
silver-plated ladles and enamel beads,
my hair tangled with buckles, caught-up
and tearing, all of this
You said show me so
I do and undo everything.
Kelly Forsythe is currently a Follett Fellow at Columbia College Chicago where she is pursuing her MFA in Creative Writing (Poetry). She has been previously published in Collision Literary Magazine and City Paper. Forsythe completed her BA in English Writing at the University of Pittsburgh.