There is No Shelter in You Anywhere*

      My wolfpack eyes
      watch from the tree line
      of your mouth.

      Watch waist-high grass
      grow out from between
      your teeth.

      There are too many
      bare branches
      that lift my dress
      then clothesline me
      to the ground.

      The bears devoured
      the door to your throat.

      Made room
      for the storm clouds
      to gather,

      made room
      for the river
      of leaving,

      made room
      for the waterfall
      of stone

      but your tongue
      is a treadmill of grief
      that never stops moving,

      a dry, shadowless stretch
      where the sun & the wind
      eat me alive,

      where the cadence
      of my feet striking
      the ground
      are mistaken
      for the flaps
      of a bird’s wings
      while we wait
      for the rain
      to lick
      our wounds.

      is the beast
      in you.

*Title taken from Edna St. Vincent Millay’s “I Only Know That Every Hour With You” – this is a poem from my nearly finished manuscript, I Eat Crow.

Amanda Oaks is the founding editor of Words Dance. Her works have appeared in numerous online & print publications, including Stirring, Dressing Room Poetry Journal, Glamour, Elle, Parenting & Artful Blogging. Her chapbook, Hurricane Mouth, was published this year by NightBallet Press.