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.