I don’t give a fig that you’ve a mind to leer
at me with each breath I make, each Freudian
slip and nod to Lear.
The local mime wants me to schedule the end
of appetite with her
twin, a gifted hypnotist who lives on Rue Feere.
Is it callous to give birth when Earth seems hell-
bent on its rendezvous with malady? Please, lend a new ear.
There’s a wolf out back who hunts the sprinkler, forgets
he’s on a list of what we’re running
low on, along with muzzles, plums, and Laru gear.
I’m trying not to take up more than my portion of air,
but I can’t quit squalling—Figueroa,
Figueroa—my nom-du-père.
Devon Walker-Figueroa, a recent graduate of The Iowa Writers’ Workshop, currently lives in New York City, where she serves as co-founding editor of Horsethief Books. Her poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in The American Poetry Review, The New England Review, The Harvard Advocate, Los Angeles Review of Books, and Narrative Magazine. You can find her online at www.devonwalkerfigueroa.com.