It is time to accept the blunt
truth. Some things happen for no
reason, no reason at all. The crow’s
spread-wing body blasted
to bits on the road, the maggots
alive in it. Love
eats, has a mouth, gnaws
what it won’t let go. Let go,
the one who hurt me said.
But pain demands
to be undressed. There’s nakedness
in knowing, and to nakedness
a lust. Who
will blame me if I eat
from the wound he pressed
like a split-ripe fruit to my palm?
By Anne-Sophie Olsen
Anne-Sophie Olsen hails from St. Paul, MN and holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Hollins University. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in places such as Birdcoat Quarterly, The Hollins Critic, Dappled Things, and Soul-Lit.