pinworms                                                                                                           —Andy Young


come out of the living late at night
to lay eggs

                       we search our son
for pearlescent threads

in the phone light
           faint smears of shit

in skin slits crowning red
                      the cave’s entrance

           to rivers of vessel and tissue
rope & sac shaped in my own flesh

           no you bastards you cannot
have him yet

you will have your chance
                      with us all one day

his sister stirs
          as we’re peering in

will she remember it
                     as a piece of dream

this quiet violation
           our search for the world feeding

on the boy as the boy feeds on the world
                                   as he once fed from me
 

Andy Young

Andy Young’s poetry collection All Night It Is Morning was published in 2014 by Diálogos Press. She teaches at New Orleans Center for Creative Arts and is a writer for Heinemann Publishing. Her work has appeared recently in Voluble, One,and storySouth, and she was a 2015 winner in the Nazim Hikmet competition. 

ISSN 2472-338X
© 2017