Meeting
by K. Alma Peterson
Her house was full of the dead
and nowhere were the quick
so quick to tell me their sweat
was from the exertion it took
to stay alive. She’d been dead
a month, and earlier, onshore,
I ran (I cannot run) along the long
prelude to sensation: cool water
on my doubts. These were
my loved ones, simultaneously
alive and dead, touching my skin,
explaining why many layers were needed.
Some bodies resisted long and hard
more than one of themselves, never mind
the house full of snakes shedding
memories of other rivers.
and nowhere were the quick
so quick to tell me their sweat
was from the exertion it took
to stay alive. She’d been dead
a month, and earlier, onshore,
I ran (I cannot run) along the long
prelude to sensation: cool water
on my doubts. These were
my loved ones, simultaneously
alive and dead, touching my skin,
explaining why many layers were needed.
Some bodies resisted long and hard
more than one of themselves, never mind
the house full of snakes shedding
memories of other rivers.
K. Alma Peterson is a graduate of Warren Wilson MFA Program for Writers. She has published two books of poetry with Blaze Vox Books: Was There No Interlude When Light Sprawled the Fen (2010) and The Last Place I Lived (2015). Her poems have appeared widely in print and online journals, most recently, poems in Delmarva Review 16, and art in Penn Review. She lives in Florida.