Traffic Girl Starts To Suspect
They put cables in the ground
for faster downloads.
There are screws with tags
in the asphalt.
It’s nothing they hide. I can’t put my body in this.
But it’s on display, a catalyst,
the smallest army of bones and flesh. They’ve resorted to my face on nature cam
like bald eagles in their giant nest.
I could lay down against the scratchy twigs,
garbage, and wet leaves.
Regurgitate Mac and Cheese
for my children.
Call it a day. The car feels like sanctuary.
But then a man in a boxy
black vehicle comes,
a warning this shit is real,
bread against my mind. In the night while they watch me sleep,
I dream of 1990 before AOL was online,
before my boyfriend/husband
with technological skills,
before virtual assault.
Who knows about this?
Who’s paid off?
Intricate lace stalks me
like a tacky wedding dress.
I’m already married, picked my fruit,
I eat it while they watch.
Sarah Lilius is the author of four chapbooks including GIRL (dancing girl press, 2017), and Thirsty Bones (Blood Pudding Press, 2017). Some of her work can be found in the Denver Quarterly, Court Green, Bluestem, Tinderbox, Entropy, and Flapperhouse. Lilius lives in Arlington, VA. Her website is sarahlilius.com.