Photo by Stig Nygaard
The undersides
of the hands. The hair.
The eyes. The chin,
the spot where the chin
becomes the neck.
Both of the arms.
The armpits.
The left tennis sneaker,
Wilson brand.
Water that we could
have left for him.
The sound of trains.
The canals that carry sound
into the ears. The ears.
Bruises and lips.
Wallet, if there ever was
a wallet. Genitals
and what they wanted.
Light after a while.
Dark after a while.
Thighs. A name.
The face, the neck.
Margaree Little’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The American Poetry Review, Bloom and Beloit Poetry Journal. She is a recent graduate of the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College and has worked as an assistant editor in the program’s archival collection of craft lectures. Originally from Rhode Island, she lives in Tucson, Arizona.