A Picture of My Ex’s Feet Show Up on Instagram and They Look Like They’re Covered in Blood

The rivulets that branch

from his soles and down

the bleach white concrete—

a delta of deep red

spread in their wake—

upon closer inspection,

are not blood, but grape juice.

The scabs that speckle

his toes, ankles, and legs:

the thick purple-black skin

of Cabernet, Carmenere,

Malbec—mashed. I imagine

him standing up to his knees

in soft round bodies, his shudder

of anticipation, then, the violence

of the step: the pressure, mutilation—

the finished husks discarded;

the juices saved, fermented,

stored and drunk for pleasure.

Kate Wright received her BA and MA in English from Penn State University. She is currently pursuing her MFA in Creative Writing and Environment from Iowa State University. Her work has appeared in or is forthcoming from Up the Staircase Quarterly, Rust + Moth, Ghost City Review, Rogue Agent, and elsewhere. You can find her on Twitter @KateWrightPoet