Constitutional

Weregirl newly walking—stumbles in her Velcro shoes toward the zombie tulips (awakened, Jesus-style, for one week only). “UH OH” she says as she dumps her plastic eggs again. “Uh oh,” she mutters, replacing them one at a time. The eight o’clock howls wake her nightly from her toddler dreams—Babybel cheese and a dog-eyed view from the stroller—or nightmares—a glass she is not permitted to touch, a gate between her and the kitty’s tail she wants so desperately to pull. O child of the quarantine, comforted only by sticking your arm down my beer glass—what delights will transfigure you today? What new words will you swallow whole?

Alyse Knorr is a queer poet and assistant professor of English at Regis University. She is the author of three poetry collections, a non-fiction book, and three poetry chapbooks. Her work has appeared in Alaska Quarterly Review, Denver Quarterly, Columbia Poetry Review, The Greensboro Review, and ZYZZYVA, among many others. She is a co-editor of Switchback Books.