Hannah Darling Fenn
Pillars
And on the blooming hill
She pats my hair dry with a towel.
Comes rung of wash and sinew.
Dislodging my stacked dreamhood.
Milk-haired midwestern mothers line the corridors
And tell me I’m delicate in that forlorn way.
And I sit between my pillars.
Clay in my hands, hum in my mouth.
Knowing neutrality in the way of unlimited astral time.
Tendering
Sometimes at night
She takes off her magnolia bones
Which are hot of a fever
And stacks them in a campfire pile
On the armchair.
And the hours open then
Like little weightless doors.
And it’s eighty degrees at one a.m.
Which is so docile and time-brewed
That she slides nicely from
Mindset to mindset.
And the roughening of every driftless
Barn animal claws its way into
The belly of things.
And the belly of things
Was us!
All along. It was us.
But you’d rather read that book
Than shout about it.
You’d rather sing this heart home.
And then you see
Her somber mouth is just the lay of the land.
Hannah Darling Fenn
Hannah Darling Fenn is a poet, artist, mother, and model living in the Midwest with her husband and three sons. She studied creative writing at Southern Oregon University. Her work has appeared in Terrible Orange Review and Wend Poetry.