i tuck my body into where the tree line breaks. you
hide far behind, not seeing me in the midday dark of old growth.
deer clear me as if i were brush, turn back and suckle
the palms of my hands; their tongues deterge my eyes, my ears.
big bodies light as light until felled.
you rise and blow the smoke from your gun.
/
you laugh at this part, say that’s not how it works,
but when i say again i dream of the deer, your set mouth turns down,
your hard eyes turn downy blinking back tears, your callused chest exhales
a firm rebuke, and sowthistle burrows out of me.
Vic Nogay
Vic Nogay is an emo poet and two-time Best Microfiction nominee. Her work appears in Barren Magazine, Lost Balloon, Reservoir Road, and Capsule Stories, among others. Her micro-poetry chapbook under fire under water will be published by tiny wren lit in 2022. Read more: vicnogay.com