After Hannah Cohen
I can hear the carpet outside shift.
Please, stomach, don’t echo her growls.
I wasn’t fast enough to get the phone this time.
I am alone in this meadhall: sink, toilet, tub,
spinning wildly in the oarlock of panic.
Mist is coming under the door. Breath:
bananas and blood. If I curl up in the tub,
my sweat will join the cold puddle of the morning.
If I turn off the light, maybe I can measure
her shadowsteps, count each softening claw
as she stalks away, escape to my room. Or,
try to snatch the phone. Anything
to avoid her teeth. Anything at all.
Teo Mungaray is a queer, chronically ill, latinx poet. He holds an MFA from Pacific University of Oregon and is pursuing his doctorate at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. He is a co-founder and co-EIC of Cotton Xenomorph. His poems have recently appeared in or are forthcoming from Sycamore Review, Five:2:One Magazine, Drunk Monkeys, Birdfeast, Cosmonauts Avenue andGlass: A Journal of Poetry. He has a cat named Lysistrata.