from the section entitled, “Rachel”
Light reveals the back of Rachel’s head and her shadow on the facing wall.
A snuff ideal
Bore entrance to your cave
Shag passed from surrogate father to son
Nightshade for forceps
You said you didn’t need this ignition
Tacky cognac words
An animal would smell the lavender on my neck
Rachel turns to reveal her face, the shadow behind her gone.
It sickens me to be a snuff box
This extinguish, this crush
This shackle full of wait.
Jennifer Pilch is the author of four chapbooks: Profil Perdu (Greying Ghost Press), Mother Color (Konundrum Engine Editions), Bulb-Setting (Dancing Girl Press), and Sequoia Graffiti (Projective Industries, forthcoming in 2016). Her poems have appeared in American Letters & Commentary, Denver Quarterly, Drunken Boat, Fence, Harp & Altar, The Iowa Review, New American Writing, Summer Stock, Tarpaulin Sky Magazine, Western Humanities Review, and many others. She studied photography at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago before anything else. She is founding editor of La Vague Journal.