Issue > Poetry

Lane Falcon

Lane Falcon's work can be found in RHINO, Pank, Word Riot, 2 River View and more. In 2012, she was awarded the Rona Jaffe Fellowship through the Vermont Studio Center. She lives in New York City.

Words For Procreation

After he comes, I find the ring,
the V of gold between
his shoulder blades. He says: I'm a widower.

Light from the TV runs sheer
across the sheet, the anchorwoman's face
like talking water. How'd she die? I say.
Cancer, he says.
Wow, I say.

"Widower"— the "o" of "Widow", crowned,
won't bleed beyond the word— sounds like occupation,
not woe, like "Beachgoer."

I kneel. His head rests
in the recess of my womb... a woman
alone: hollow? Sometimes.

Armadillo

I can flee from you
into thorns, leave you
stomping outside the bramble,
your roar diminished: a worm
at my nose. I wait
for the soft thud of your paws
as you push yourself home
to your children, their hunger,
then I can emerge.

If sometimes, I stay
enshrined in privacy
like quiet on a sleeping baby's tongue,
who'll wake if I move,

it's not because I think
you'll return.