Abigail Zimmer


It happens a lot that I forget my name
I mean anchor no anger I mean it’s coming soon—

the choice to be silent or a blues song. You are a song
which does not mention any hometown.

With an owl tattooed on one arm,
an elk around the other, I want to kiss you

but I’m already dreaming
an unripe melon between my legs.

May I keep touching you? Every morning
the neighbors lean out windows

hollering like they’re holding a newborn—
We, the lovers! We, the joy-bringers!

Or is it oui? They fling confetti,
pat my cheeks with glitter. Oui, the day!

Hours later, when they quiet, I begin
a letter to myself and your tattoos.

I am so safe, I write in careful, elegant hand,
so safe and happy, dear owl, dear elk.

Abigail Zimmer is the author of girls their tongues (Orange Monkey Publishing, 2016) and the chapbook fearless as I seam (Dancing Girl Press). She lives in Chicago where she is the poetry editor for The Lettered Streets Press. Her work has appeared in NightBlock, Jellyfish, The New Megaphone, and alice blue review, among others.