Who are the other mammals
full of feathers
who miss their harsh
fathers like I do,
who collect leather pipes
& hoop dresses like I do,
who send their mothers
supermarket rose bouquets,
who prefer their bodies
ringed round with zippers?
Where are the other
animals that wallow
in purple fringed regret
like I do?
Who are the other mammals
with cloven cracked
chests who stitch
sharp darts
in their flesh like I do?
O, isn’t it a hopeless
loneliness of kitchens
when you don’t know
anyone
to give your everything to?
Copyright © 2025 by Abe Louise Young. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on July 11, 2025, by the Academy of American Poets.
