“The Prince Pulls His Boat from the Chowan River” by Robyn Campbell

The Prince Pulls His Boat from the Chowan River

Outside, the smell of things
changes. The slugs, braver at night, drag
their shapeless bodies back and
forth through the dirt and leave
unsteady silver trails.

I’m becoming shameless. You are
everywhere now. There is nothing
else to see.

My heart is swollen; I can feel
it push against the skin like
a trapped deer. In dreams, I cut open
my chest, pull hard. I don’t bleed.
The hole is filled with roots. Over
and over, I speak your name—
love is an ugly incantation.

Dry-tongued, I wake up and remember
that this is not my home. It is only
an open door, a window with
your face behind it.

me (1)

Robyn Campbell is a Philadelphia-based poet and editor of Semiperfect Press. Her work has appeared in journals such as Voicemail PoemsStirring, and Apiary, among others, and is forthcoming in 1932 Quarterly. She is a drummer and avid hiker, and her first chapbook, “Bloom Where You,” is available now. You can learn more about her at www.robynjcampbell.com.

Featured Image by MILKOVÍ

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