Did you ever leave

Amy Jo Trier-Walker


To walk away from a box full of kittens, many just parts, nubs. To hope they are not my litter.

My neck is burning. My arm. Wrist.

(Naudhiz (a need bound across the chest, distress, deliverance, passion, the shadow self

To lie. And listen to the three-year-old mother. Your thigh touching mine around her.

To need to lie down. With. To wrap with around me. To trust. Impossible. This is nothing but trust.

My mother got lost. The first ten years. I got lost. A man. Another ten.

Did you ever leave a bag of bones to find your way back.


About the Work

Amy Jo Trier-Walker

Amy Jo Trier-Walker received her MFA in poetry at Columbia College Chicago, and she is a tree farmer in Indiana.  Along with a chapbook, Trembling Ourselves into Trees, which is forthcoming from Horse Less Press in 2015, her work can be found in or is forthcoming from HandsomeLEVELERWord For/WordTimber, and Ilk, among others, and she is the Art Editor at Black Tongue Review.

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