My neck, flesh funnel, hands place around the tube, look for bones to crack, skin bruises natural, an accident. I could fly last night, a fairy woman, iridescent wings. I’m a hummingbird feeding off sugar water from the oracle’s withered hands. She tells me freedom, a guise, never mine with my body in the back pocket of his dirty denim. My mind, jilted princess, cut open, a cadaver, a body without the ball gown and tiara. I’ll never curtsy with that warmth I once knew, not with these control marks up and down my neck, a tree he’ll soon cut down. I watch the oracle shake her head slow, I return, I lay down.
Sarah Lilius is the author of the chapbooks What Becomes Within (ELJ Editions, 2014) and The Heart Factory (Black Cat Moon Press, 2016). Some of her journal publication credits include the Denver Quarterly, Court Green, The Fem, Bluestem,Tinderbox, Hermeneutic Chaos, Stirring, Luna Luna Magazine, Entropy, and Flapperhouse. She lives in Arlington, VA with her husband and two sons. Her website is sarahlilius.com.