A Haunting
Anina Robb It’s been fifteen years since I’ve stepped outside this body--motherhood like an undertaker buried me with squeeze toys, tricycles, tantrums. I folded up neatly into myself, coffin-like, and no one could see my sunken eyes, my sunken nipples, my sunken heart. I tried a few times to dig up the remnants of the girl I used to know-- her violet smiles, childish collarbone and kisses. But in this cruel climate of middle-age, I feed chocolates to myself in sub-soil darkness. At night I dream of digging deeper down to the hot, iron core where the rocks are so old they have memories. I’m climbing the ladder down and the living soil closes above me and the roots of the trees tangle like lovers hovering above me, strange stars. |
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About the Author:
Anina Robb is a poet living in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia with her husband, son, daughter, and cat & dog. She earned her MFA from Sarah Lawrence College. Her poems have appeared in numerous publications, both online and print. In her spare time she likes to run.
Anina Robb is a poet living in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia with her husband, son, daughter, and cat & dog. She earned her MFA from Sarah Lawrence College. Her poems have appeared in numerous publications, both online and print. In her spare time she likes to run.
