Body betrayed, I bore
the world’s fugitive, had lost you
before we untethered.

Death is a matter of waiting,
and I saw yours curled
like a snake around every
corner, mine the spider
I couldn’t catch in time.

When offered your marbled
flesh—
I couldn’t.

Forgive me. A mother can
only hold so many scars.

But hovered between nightmare
and waking, my wounds sink
into yours, fresh and warm
as I remember you. In darkness,
all blood sheds embraced.

This is how we began.

This article appears in August 19 2019.

Whitney Rio-Ross teaches English at Trevecca Nazarene University in Nashville, TN. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Rock & Sling, Saint Katherine Review, Waccamaw, Gravel and elsewhere.