Issue 26 | Fall 2020

Lauren, Natural History: Philadelphia, 2012

When we first met, she showed me a whale jaw—

tapered as the belly of a boat—before opening


the door onto the skull of an elephant who had

killed her trainer. Sockets hollow as sorrow,


I never forgot. Our home, too, would be riddled

with moth dust and carpet beetles, dried pipefish,


bones waiting to be articulated and identifiable.

Ours was the marriage of fainting goats, shiso,


the mating struts of rare birds. Of dissection,

stop-motion, black and white. We shared knives


and space and so much spit. We took turns crying

for being touched. Each of us was built to try.



Filed under: Poetry

Katherine Fallon received her MFA from Sarah Lawrence College and is the author of The Toothmakers’ Daughters (Finishing Line Press, 2018). Her chapbook, Demoted Planet, will be published by Headmistress Press in 2021. Her work has appeared in AGNI, Colorado Review, Juked, Meridian, Foundry, and Best New Poets 2019, among others. She teaches at Georgia Southern University, assists in editing Terrible Orange Review, and is a reader for [PANK].