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Sunday, April 22, 2018

MY BACKUP IS UP AGAINST THE WALL By Farrah Field

Children should have something

I cast on too tightly

Sometimes I get the feeling I was born everywhere

Headed out of town wearing my motherhoodie

Tucked into the woods like folded hands

In a March puddle on Water Street

I came here so I wouldn’t have to spend anymore time in a car

Always checking my maps

Her life is one big boyfriend

Chewing on a path scratching off a mole’s top

The ride was fifty-five miles of girl lovin’ topic

I just mimed cutting off my own hand burying it and growing flowers

We would’ve never gone to sleep if we had shared a room

For the script Hawkeye Trapper John and Duke are women

On a campaign to get rid of pennies and the letter K

I was almost hit by a car once looking up at the moon

 

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