LILITH INTERVIEWS FOR A DAY JOB

Tell me about yourself.

There’s a small planet burning
in the back of my throat. I’m so sorry.
Do you have a lozenge? Thank you.

Why do you seek this position?

Like all the women
before me, I blur at the edges.
My coin purse clacks open
and shut.

What are your qualifications?

I am anywhere like the place the cat goes
when it leaves the house. Like a birdbath
I overflow. My throat makes more
than birdsong. I rain opinions like bird shit.

What are your hobbies?

Have you ever watched two blue vocal cords flap
against each other? I flutter
open and shut open
and shut.

How did you hear about this position?

My dead family reads me the wanted ads
left at their doorstep. They sing to me now,
more often than they ever did before. It’s funny
how a grave can open its throat.

What are your biggest weaknesses?

My favorite color is the mirror.
I cry over inclement weather. I notice too much.
I can do nothing about it. Is it hot in here? My throat
sounds like screaming.

Where do you see yourself in five years?

My breath comes like wind and weeds
overrun the garden. The birds have slowly taken
to the instrument of my throat. It’s beautiful
how I have stopped hiding from myself.

Mara Beneway is a writer, visual artist, and teacher from New York. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Bennington Review, Conduit, The Minnesota Review, Foglifter, and elsewhere. Her collection of linked flash fiction, Grandma June, won the Flume Press 2021 Chapbook competition. She holds an MFA from the University of South Florida and is currently working on her first book, a full-length collection of poetry titled DAUGHTERS OF LILITH.