It's just poetry, it won't bite

Hollow Body

08.07.18 Posted in today's words by

Barbara Tramonte is a poet with poems, essays, and stories published in literary journals and anthologies. She have had one book of poems published by a small press and a chapbook published in 2018 by Finishing Line Press. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in American Chordata, The Alembic, The Binnacle, Black Buzzard Review, Bluestem, Boston Review, Burningword Literary Journal, The Chaffin Journal, Common Ground Review, Confluence, Crack the Spine, Dos Passos Review, Drunk Monkeys, Edison Literary Review, Eleven Eleven, ellipsis…, Folly, Forge, FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry, Gloom Cupboard, The Griffin, Hiram Poetry Review, Home Planet News, Illya’s Honey, Juked, Kaleidoscope, Monarch Review, New Letters, The Old Red Kimono, The Paragon Journal, Pearl, Phantasmagoria, The Pinch, riverSedge, Rougarou, Sanskrit, Serving House Journal, Slipstream, Spillway, The Tower Journal, Tulane Review, Westview, and other literary and academic journals.

Hollow Body
By Barbara Tramonte

There is no solace for me
My landscape explodes in loss
I am melted by the sheer force
Of that day I found you sagging
In the chair.
Touch. Shake.
Hollow body. Tiger become rug
Cowhide; shoe
Now I am all alone
There are no more comparisons
Just the finality of death
And my dull gaze at what I see.

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