Chloë Mattingly
A Tangle of Lines

Chloë Mattingly - A Tangle of Lines

Contest - 2nd Place
Chloë Mattingly was born in the south and raised in the north, and she’s been confused ever since. Presently, she… Read more »
Caylin Capra-Thomas
Bigfoot to Her Daughter

Caylin Capra-Thomas - Bigfoot to Her Daughter

Contest - 1st Place
Caylin Capra-Thomas’s second chapbook Inside My Electric City is available through YesYes Books. The recipient of the Louisville Literary Arts… Read more »
Dayna Patterson
Ophelia, Amphibian

Dayna Patterson - Ophelia, Amphibian

Contest - 3rd Place
Dayna Patterson received her MFA from Western Washington University. She is a former Managing Editor of Bellingham Review, Poetry Editor… Read more »

Bigfoot to Her Daughter

Caylin Capra-Thomas

All is mind. We comb our hair with stiffened
hair. Do not think we are immune to vanity—
that I have you is a vanity, codified, passed
along like an heirloom or a cough. Expect
to be pushed out. We are alone here. Soon
you will be so completely. If the fig tree’s
fruit must fall and rot, so must the fruit
of figment. There, there little glimmer.
It can’t all be so personal; god and time
are one, and both make daughters motherless.
When you can’t reach to groom your back,
abrade it on the base of a scrub pine. Trees
are not as stoic as they seem. One day
you too will be reduced to what you leave
behind—footfall, fragrance—then recede
back into the mind that made you. Perhaps
it is mine, or perhaps it is that of the sea,
the womb of all that is real and all
that the real imagines. I feel us becoming
something like seaweed—egg-sacked
tangle of self, toothed and knotted wrack.
Forever children fantastic—never snarling,
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