p
o
e
m
s

She loves him, because

he cannot be eaten.

Then, she tries.

Half dead, he resists.

His late flinch

entreats her.

 

Pale little legs,

that pod,

a few hairs,

almost no eyes—

this least is what she craves

yet cannot have.

 

Keep me,

he asks.

She bounces him

from paw to paw,

slaps,

and sighs.

 

If he were

still alive,

she

would love him

and

kill him.

 

For Ethan Leinwand.

Molly McQuade is the author of Stealing Glimpses and An Unsentimental Education as well as the editor of By Herself: Women Reclaim Poetry.

You Might Also Enjoy

Consumption

David Jacowitz


Emile was a paralegal. He knew he’d be a lawyer someday, he’d move up and become a lawyer, with his own office and. . .

stories

Drums of Zaragoza

Joe Dunthorne

We practiced in the attic of her father’s orthodontic surgery. Stacked neatly against the back wall were hundreds of small white. . .

stories

Baffler Newsletter

new email subscribers receive a digital copy of our current issue.

Further Reading