Love happens too easily, like my bones
came hollow. Anything
can fill them. Like my being grounded
relies on someone else pressing
palms into my shoulders
relies on me pressing
back, thumb to hip
bone, thumb to thigh.
My nightmares used to be water-
logged. Crocodile teeth pulling
me under. Now
every night my own teeth fall
out, little white offerings
my body makes,
they’d be weightless in someone
else’s hand. And my bones beg
to be waterlogged
or stuffed with pearls, something
to make my body balanced or brighter,
easier for someone to love and to
weigh me down.
Laurel Paige is a recent graduate of the MFA program at Queens University of Charlotte. She lives in Madison, WI where she works at a software company and gives readings at Meaderys. Her work has appeared in Firefly and is forthcoming in The Conglomerate and Semicolon Lit.