We Shouldn’t
Let’s say that the windowsill
is feeble and the bird that sounds
like a cat in heat is sewn, flat lock
stitched, to the black bark
of the neighbor’s tree. Let’s say
you weren’t awful. Let’s say
(we shouldn’t) that bodies are not
all that beautiful. A lake will spill
upwards. Let’s say it won’t
come back down.
Katherine Fallon’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in AGNI, Colorado Review, Juked, Meridian, Foundry, and Best New Poets 2019, among others. Her chapbook, The Toothmakers’ Daughters, is available through Finishing Line Press. She shares domestic space with two cats and her favorite human, who helps her zip her dresses.
