I am at zero-- hollowed out cavity waiting toothless mouth Gown dried roses from obligatory bouquets I shed: dead flowers, rub: face with fresh petals avoid: remembering smell
I am crossed-off grocery list-- bad at waiting. I walk street, backyard, gather pebbles/feathers/pine needles, sew their faces into dolls they question-animate-resent
Now my sleeves jagged, windfull, propel me foot over hand up my thorny tower, I slowly kiss my sleeping brow
I diadem I enter I the vines
No more cliff edge grasping disembodied hands I pluck white rose from the hot belly of a crudely sketched sun
-- Elizabeth Theriot grew up in Louisiana and earned her undergraduate degree from University of New Orleans. She currently lives in Tuscaloosa, where she is an MFA candidate at the University of Alabama. Elizabeth works with the Black Warrior Review as Nonfiction Editor and with the program as Assistant to the Director. Her publications can be found online in Tinderbox, Requited, Pretty Owl, and Alyss; forthcoming in OCCULUM, Rogue Agent, and Crab Fat Magazine; and in print in The Mississippi Review.