Alexa Doran     Tallahassee              (Susan L Leary)
At the Roller Rink, You Remind Me of Your Mother 

how certain she is I’m an owl, the most haunted of the birds; warned you: wide berth - but you’re so sure you’ve never seen me fly, no beak prey-deep, no talon-pale leaves, no wonder to write against the sky, that you assure me she’s blind. I wonder if this is how Snow White felt, forced to fuck her life away in a cabin, to make song of ash in the ass of some mountain, all because another woman couldn’t find a way to future her own fountain. Neon lights rhythm the rink and I watch you watch my son Grestky my ankles as we spin. Is this in your mother’s vision? My son’s weight balanced between us, his hand learning to trust through the rough of your touch. Oh, to be a plum ice bidden from the box, enormous with glisten and bloated by snowdrop, ready for the thistle of jaw – instead of here, tossed like marshmallow on the bonfire of your fears, my melt the only thaw. Does she weep knowing we fall asleep, my fingers spelling battles into the fault line of your teeth, my thighs dragging your mouth like a saw? 
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