My hands fold and unfold all night,
packing until dawn. It’s a ritual—
I fill the trunk and the work is undone.
Her insults build like a sunrise, hotter
with the hour. Goats graze
and bleat softly. I have been
without my flock for years.
So when she forms a fist,
I wait for her palm to open,
for her ring to bite my fingers.
She will soften once the trunk clicks
shut and we’re ready for the silent drive.
Dew is forming on clover.
She says my name quietly.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 27, Issue 1.
Siobhan Jean-Charles graduated with her Bachelor’s from Salisbury University in Maryland and is an MFA candidate at Arizona State University. She is the blog editor for The Shore Poetry and the poetry editor for Hayden’s Ferry Review. She was a finalist for the Subnivean Award, judged by Major Jackson. Siobhan’s work has been nominated for a Pushcart prize and received support from the Virginia G. Piper Center for Creative Writing. Her poetry is published or forthcoming in Passages North, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Furrow, and elsewhere.
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