I try
to reconstitute what
a hug feels like
outside of my skin
pod of two plus
cat, how it might wrap
strange, how I might turn
back from it, run
behind my ribs, seek
out the sleek crimson
folds of my heart
where I could pace
its four soft rooms, watch
its doors open and
close in a circle.
…..
This poem is from the chapbook Each Time, a Forest by Carol Tiebout (Finishing Line Press), and can be found at https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/each-time-a-forest-by-carol-tiebout/
Carol Tiebout lives in Edmonds WA on the traditional land of the Salish peoples. Her work can be found in New Ohio Review, Calyx Journal of Art and Literature, BoomerLitMag and is forthcoming in Neologism Poetry Journal. Her work is informed by seventeen years of working in hospice.
The Paddock Review 