The Belly of the Wolf by Emma Miao
The Belly of the Wolf
Emma Miaois empty
of children, ripped cardboard,
happy endings. A flesh
rimmed cavern, sinews strung under
the heart like harp strings. Tanks
rumble under my feet
when the wolf talks, gutter-pulsing
in skin. I lie on my back & pretend
this hollow is a spaceship,
primed for a red sky. The acid
river foams down my spine.
My grandmother lies
next to me, holds a fistful
of crumpled tulips. Her glasses
perched on the stomach bed.
She knows this cage by touch; knows
the lost girls from the woods
whose ghosts whisper when I sleep.I imagine the wolf in front of the mirror,
scanning his fur for scratch marks.
I imagine he’s tired of fighting.
Tired of being a storyline,
clause, augury for a beast
choking on its blood.
How many girls sprawled on
a story finale, colourpop
double spread, smiling in their
gas chambers. How many girls
in the bellies of machines
that pretend to love them.
KEEP READING
SHARED WITH GRATITUDE
This poem appeared in The Poetry Society, 2020.
ABOUT EMMA MIAO
Emma Miao is a poet from Vancouver, BC. She is the author of Geography of Mothers (Frog Hollow Press, 2021). Her poems are published in Diode Poetry Journal, HOBART, Frontier Poetry, Atlanta Review, Permafrost Magazine, Rust + Moth, and The Fiddlehead. Her poem “Rabbits on the Balcony” won the 2020 Ralph Gustafson Prize for Best Poem. She likes iced coffee by the beach. (Source)
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