In just an instant,
Her pelvis
Sh at ter ed
Wandering uterus, empty
An amp-
utated leg, later in life
The vestal virgins promised the fullness of a flame,
Then,
Were planted
Screaming as siloed seeds
Nothing to be done but bookkeeping:
Black / Dahlia;
lampshades upholstered with sluts
Mona Lisa and her dead smile,
Singed skin of the Napalm Girl
And all the victims of the
The
T
O
W
E
R
of London,
Spiked drinks,
Nuclear households, and
The Bible
Count them all. Her life is war and
h o l e s
You will recognize her by what’s missing:
Cut out the clitoris,
Excise the eyes—this is no world for a woman to see
(We have the same politics, thank you very much)
Ruled by the heart, they rule the hearth
Nothing to do but remember:
There’s no place like home, no place like home,
Dorothy, without feet, dreams of skipping
Daphne & i are chased through a forest peopled with miscarried
words, wondering what we will lose
What are your measurements?
Ilse Griffin received her BA in English literature and creative writing from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, her MA in TESOL/linguistics from Hamline University, and her Graduate Certificate in Teaching Writing from Mankato State University. She is a meditation practitioner, teacher, and year-round bike commuter. She has been published in Where is the River, Funny Looking Dog Quarterly, Pif Magazine, Talking Stick, Anti-Heroin Chic, MayDay Magazine, MayDay Magazine, Bending Genres Journal, and forthcoming in Spry Literary Journal. She loves in St. Paul, Minnesota.