( )

Gabriella McField, U.S.

my mother is pale plain )) aglare like the moon ))

& i mean not )) that she is beautiful ))

but that she looms )) cold overhead ))

the space between us )) a cut of darkness ))

that if you press a new razor )) deep in )) & gash fast ))

a white grave )) stings half-dug )) before blood ))

floods in. )) & i want to say )) i know only ))

because i cut )) myself. i want to say she was only distant &

never touched me never yanked me by the wrist

gouged all the flesh she could pin beneath her fingers

say i have never run hands over myself

& found craters white & seething

that i do not tense at every touch

knowing what red tide might swell

knowing i am more blood moon than body

than myself

Gabriella McField is in love with words and everything green, growing, and wild. Her work often touches on the body or the wilderness in some way—you can find it in The Bitter Fruit Review and Dead Fern Press, and you can find her working as the Co-Editor-in-Chief of Ogma Magazine. She tweets @parkmcfield.