the moon slick and O as a singing mouth we could have eaten the trumpeting frogswe could have gotten wilder popped the lake orchestra into our mouths, each musician coated with pollen sauce. the ticks could have gotten wilderstrong-armed into the Volkswagen and plungedheadfirst in the valley of our skin reaching up to suck clouds. I wanted to sing, when did you get so? when you got so wild the poplars ahh-ed and the moonwith her aria held the long C and the tire-crushed onionsfloated through the sunroof you knockedon every doorof my ghost town the log cabins disemboweled by termites the lullabies drowned in glasses of water beside dust-packed mattresses. and you brought me home outside. [End Page 384] over here, the starsin my lungs were saying. I’ve overgrown through the years: my skin is purple in this light my eyes are marble.I’ve oxidized and become brittle. but over here still and with more wild to sing yet. [End Page 385]
IRÈNE MATHIEU has published poetry, nonfiction prose, and photography in a number of periodicals, including The Caribbean Writer, 34th Parallel, Muzzle Magazine, Diverse Voices Quarterly, Journal of General Internal Medicine, museum of americana, HEArt Journal, and Los Angeles Review. She is currently a medical student at Vanderbilt University. Before studying medicine, she studied international relations at the College of William and Mary and completed a Fulbright Fellowship in the Dominican Republic.