After Untitled (Providence), a photograph by Francesca Woodman, 1975-78

I’m no nocturnal animal. I am only sleeping.
the fox carries its quarry home to lay at

my feet. The raccoon forages in my
hair, small claws comb and break, and I

curl in this glass shell. I feel how moss
clings to me, dust, a life-sized laboratory slide--- 

pretender to an animal kingdom, this small throne,

this small peace. The sighs of animals,

waiting.

This piece previously appeared in Rust & Moth but was withdrawn and removed from the site for ethical reasons.

Sarah Nichols lives and writes in Connecticut. She is the author of eight chapbooks, including She May Be a Saint (Porkbelly Press, 2019) and This is Not a Redemption Story (Dancing Girl Press, 2018.) Her poems and essays can also be found in FreezeRay, Moonchild Magazine, and Five:2:One Magazine.