In the summer’s time of dying
even the black welt of the sky
and slick rain roads will not keep
the green by the highway from receding.
My body alone houses this stubborn growth,
unwanted spark, traitor to frozen, empty rooms.
I dream of flicking a knifepoint into my belly
above the blonde crosshairs and out—
calmly examining the parasite on its tip
before wiping it clean on a napkin—without feeling.
Today, the first chill of a long winter.
Kat McKinney received an MA in 2008 and teach
at Valdosta State University. Kat enjoys reading to cats,
dancing, and getting the last can of coke from the vending