The photographer’s girlfriend speaks
Something about his eyes reminds me
of butcher shops. I am more than the
other girls, he says; fist full of facts, mind
wider, hair longer, the right amount of sad.
And yet he looks and chooses all the time.
Will this be enough? As he tightens other
flesh, captures bones, I will wonder what
was said in the moments after and before.
Behind the stripes hides nothing but my fear;
his obsession, which, as a flash streaks dark,
with one saccade will disappear. Wrapped car-
cass of a sacred beast, I leave behind no mark.
Sara Barnard (she/her) is from the UK, has lived in Spain and Canada, and is now based on a sailboat in Central America, with her partner and child. Since finishing a PhD in Hispanic Studies, she has focused on sailing, parenting, and freelance writing (travel, music, culture). Her poems have been published by Bone & Ink Press, Glass Poetry Resists,Hypertrophic Literary, The Cerurove, and Okay Donkey, among others.