Poetry: ‘Fever / Feed Her’

Photo Noemi Stella Mazurek

This poem is about why she doesn’t write poems anymore 

and why she hasn’t truly slept 

since late July’s shadow crept 

away and wept 

in rain 

that drowned the fields 

you came to work as a martyr 


I’ve had a fever for months 

and when it breaks, I worry whether 

I’ll fly or crumble with it 


Personality traits 

on eyelids 

cry, kids

you’ll find 


a sigh, kids 

will save you 

but is a crime

in terms of saving others 


I’ve been dreaming about talking to you;


that time I had the flu. 

They tempted me with butter and jam 

and I remained appetized by your crumb-less plate 

were you trying to tell me 

it was already too late? 


So I starved off the sunflower seeds they placed in my palm 

I chose to thread them into a necklace

because you can’t sow seeds 

if they’re beads around a collarbone 

choking you up 

until you’re all alone 


So you went home 

and left me in


free form, 

battered knees adorn 

a corpse that copes 

and floats 

in brackish water 


Stomach empty, 

she thinks she’s a daughter.