Two poems by Molly Fleischer

Spring is eternal

In bone song		there aches 
Your wet lurch 
We met in march
You were	stir frying anglerfish 
on a snowplow’s headlights 
I walked up & took 		your internal temperature
X-rayed you 		up & down

Some people		have their hearts 
in coils		lime green		garden hoses
Behind aquarium glass 
& oxymoronic words like	Fire Hydrant

Every Spring 
I think I want to become
Water		as in
Seventy five percent of someone

You were slicing Kosher dills
the long ones
for our burgers
I had been catching and releasing
millipedes until I got sick of it
and just started killing them
It was hot and it felt like
all the food in the house
was just about to mold
I’m squinting in
the putrid fridge light
reading the expirations
like a road map to Alaska
or some other place with
elastic winter
Not looking up from the knife
at your brined knuckle
you say you think
your hair is growing longer
and the days are growing longer
definitely and my
breath no longer reaches the bottom
of the stairs because my own hair
has braided itself to the power lines
Are we going to become the walls?
I think my hand smells
like a dish towel and my bare feet
are caked in millipede crumbs
Summer is cruel when
it magnifies my wingspan of about forty caterpillars
a white hot flame carves
holes into paper palms, split
open to reveal yourself
to me this summer, you
with the real penchant for the grill
the art of burned flesh
One burger for girls please, bat my eyes
and tuck a strand of cobweb behind my ear
You are cruel when
you look at me like I’m
a leech filled river and
you hand me a hot dog cut latitudinally

Molly Fleischer (They/them)
Molly Fleischer lives in Philadelphia. They enjoy writing and making creatures out of yarn. They can be found on Twitter @theohiofrogman or Instagram @bavarianwaveswinger.