POETRY BY NOLCHA FOX

Dig Deeper

A marriage is like this:

The first year, peel off the skin.

The next year, dig deeper.

remove the bones

one by one.

Brush them off thoroughly.

Stick the small ones

in your bra.

Throw the rest

to the dogs.

The third year, yank the heart out,

feel it warm, feel it

pulsate in your hand.

Put it in a glass jar

and show your friends.

Prove that he’s heartless.

If he still loves you

the next year, dig deeper.

Pull out each nerve

one by one.

When you pluck

the final one,

call this archeology

of the last nerve.

Don’t be too proud of the job.

Don’t brag to your friends.

He’s been doing

the same thing to you.

Of Course

Of course I believe everything you tell me. Of course my parents never lied about Santa. Or sex. Of course love never peeled off my skin and turned me inside out. Of course no one will notice if I wear my clothes backwards. Of course no one will laugh if I slip in the mud. Of course the doctor told me that I would live forever, and not to worry about that lump. What a Shame I saved shame as pebbles. I hide them in my shoes. Tiny, but irritating. I saved shame as arrowheads. I hide them in my shoulder hunch. Otherwise, they pierce. I saved shame as daggers. I hide them in my tongue. Talking is deadly.

The Darkness

The darkness follows me home. The darkness makes peanut brittle in my microwave. The darkness makes a nest in my hair. The darkness weeds my garden. The darkness sits next to me at the bar, drinking wine. The darkness is the wine.

Nolcha (@NolchaF) has written all her life, starting with poop and crayons on the walls. That led to a long career in technical writing. She retired into creative writing. Her poems have been published in WyoPoets News, Duck Head Journal, Ancient Paths, and The Red Lemon Review.