I3 Malone


In one state I was born knowing how to nest
potted in small duties
in a crooked porch town
I grew buttoned against the wind

You kept a sill for dust
and bulbs frozen before me
I saw you dream of waking
saying I was asleep

At the turn of a faucet I strode above the house
too tall to last a storm
and if naked I looked set to attack or love
a suitcase fit me better than dresses for occasions

Someone had to keep things going
I thought long between dishes
and made space for losses
and woke as a doe to gather from the trees

You will be in your thin skin when I come down
in the wild sap-running weather
I have learned to turn a spigot
I have learned a science of the inside

Sarah Malone’s work has appeared in PANK, Five Chapters, The Collagist, The Common, The Awl, Open City, and elsewhere. She blogs, here.
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