On "Near The Five Corners" by Kay Sage
I am my own figure. I can cut
a rug. Woman as in blood,
woman as in soft bones
and a mess of antlers.
You're near the five corners, but
you're not quite there. Do
you know what they are? Two
for each thigh. And one
for the corner in the middle.
You see architecture, but you
know nothing of middle corners,
how a body can turn around it
and go to pleasant static. How
my body is rainstick with
or without your touch.
You're not in the five corners. But instead,
you're in grid, as in chess, as in
graph paper, as in grate. I laugh
as you fumble, thick and lurid.
Nadia Wolnisty is the submissions editor of ThimbleLitMag.com. Her work has appeared in Spry, Apogee, Anti-Heroin Chic, *Isaucoustic, McNeese Review, Paper & Ink, and others. She has chapbooks from Cringe-Worthy Poetry Collective and from Finishing Line Press and a full-length from Spartan. Her third chapbook is forthcoming from Dancing Girl Press.