American Mother, Sarah Lilius

Doesn’t leave the house, the newest baby screams all night, all day. Colic thorns and her skin bleeds like a tattoo, the sound is a skull shape she slips into. Loses it over dirty dishes, remnants of dinner float like greasy body parts, corn kernels are the yellowed teeth of her husband, a wet breadContinue reading “American Mother, Sarah Lilius”

When Place is What You Once Held Loose, Sarah Lilius

for the Quad Cities Pipe dreams and cold weather.Religion, a hot hand, to holdlike a lover, church after churchdon crosses like stable hats. Try to not die the regular death,heart attack, stroke, in her sleep.He died in the river, mud in his ears.Bury the bodies under trees, this never happens, we’re already decomposingin our easyContinue reading “When Place is What You Once Held Loose, Sarah Lilius”