MY PERIOD IS VERY LATE

Last week a mosquito drank me, and I broke
my own skin to catch the burn.
That’s how I’ve always desired you, Buck.
Against my will and urgently.

In the fantasy, I birth two
of yours. You know the story boy and girl
girl and boy. Joke about football. This could be
life. I could finally shed myself

in a heap of relief, like jeans in the humidity.
It’s my own problem to think of mothers
as oracles or sleepwalkers skimming
above their own humanity.

Surely, this summer was the worst ever.
The west brought smoke
and hurricanes’ tangled blue skies.
Our shame was barely visible

despite everything being our fault.
The way we killed
the cows. Sometimes, I think the land
is the only real problem; sometimes

I think of ripping in two
and calling it purpose. I report to you
that a swan turned upside down in the pond
and its feet warbled in the air

while the world creaked with rust.
You could end it now.
I’m asking if we might speak to each other
as unambiguously as possible.

Kai-Lilly Karpman has studied at the Iowa Writer’s Workshop and holds an MFA from Columbia University. She has been previously published in Plume, Image Magazine, Passengers, and elsewhere. Her collection, Life Cycle of Cruelty, was named a finalist for the 2024 Trio House Press Louise Bogan Award. Her lyrics have appeared in Marvel Studio’s “Mz. Marvels” and “The Marvels” soundtrack.