Aubaded

by Cy March

I obeyed.

Something ragged

had me in its mouth.

I found significance

in other things–

I couldn’t say what.


I abided.

Ok, I stood beside

this propensity to have.

We drove across a lake;

I spit in it;

I took it back.


Aubade:

I gulped open

along a ridged road.

Holes blistered into

a dog I was dreaming.

I woke up touching you.

Cy March is a poet and collage artist living in Charlottesville, VA. They’re currently an MFA candidate in poetry at the University of Virginia where they also work as a graduate instructor. Some of their poems can be found in The Quarterless Review and Peach Mag.