So, you smelled nice and dressed funny.

A Poem by Mollie

So, I wanted to slice open your belly and scoop out all of the poison and

all

of the

snow. So, I did. And I found whole snow storms and all of their wrath, and I found girls screaming for help and making wishes on leaves and not eyelashes. I saw me in there, too. Chewed up and crushed up and mangled a little, but it was me: stupid me.

So, you smelled nice and dressed funny. So, I named you January, and then March, and I was still sleeping in your belly, even then.

So, I slept in your stomach, and stared at your esophagus thinking of my home. And I don’t know when I will stop sleeping in your belly, and I don’t know if I ever will.