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Three Poems by Laura Metter


Three Poems by Laura Metter


Accepting Defeat

He bowed, bent at hip like
a statue toppled by revolutionaries
or candle contorted by
its own flickering wick.

At this point his chest
was more like a casket
holding his heart.

He could practically hear
a rattling in his ribs
rolling forward
as gravity clawed
and the ground came near.

Dead things are heavy,
weighing down peace of mind
like a strangling tree
rooted at the bone.

Internal Excavation

That dentist is always telling me
I have early signs of gingivitis:
swollen gums, systematic body aches,
bacterial cultivation between
teeth cracked crevasses.

She says so, so does my wife
and my boss and my doctor and
my neighbor and her gardener
and anyone who wants
to pry open jaws, peek
and prod at inner workings of

teeth, tooth, tooths,
ripping me open,
and swallow me whole.

Maternal Storm

My mother died the same day
a hurricane hit. I imagine wind
picked her up as it passed by
a breeze building open arms
beyond rooftops, gathering leaves
and clearing skies.

In movies, rain arrives
at funerals, harsh waters
dripping from the spigot
behind static infested screens.

But the day we erected her tombstone
the sun waved, eyed us with rays of
a different flood as we gather
for the woman who introduced me
to this world.

About the author

Laura Metter is a young writer residing in Greenwich, Connecticut. She graduated from Hollins University and works for C&R Press. Her work has appeared in Literary Orphans, PANK, Adanna Literary Journal, and The Artifice.

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