Rain bores through dirt. Clouds grow denser and light scatters. In this binding mania, I sink to mud. Above the ankle, all air. In a hollow, Earth pushes out quintuplets, sets them up like trees to hear the land. So many dolls. So many dolls without shadows. When the sky recedes, when the second sky holds court, something missing among the scraps.
Abigail Zimmer lives in Chicago where she is the poetry editor for The Lettered Streets Press. Her work has appeared in Jellyfish, ILK, Whiskey Island, The New Megaphone, and Fairy Tale Review, among others.