Suspicion

By Holly Conant

Right now you could be climbing the ladder of my DNA. Maybe you already have. I didn’t even feel your steps. I didn’t feel you breaking the glass of my house. I leave the window open for you. You could have been here for days without me knowing, working your way through the landscape of my dwelling, invading room after room. You kiss my children as I kiss them, burrow deep into me, disarm me with your gaslight. My body will try to expel you but you have staked your nails. You groove and hollow my insides.

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Chris Palmer
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Chris Palmer
1 month ago

Nice poem, Holly. Some good turns of phrase in there.

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