Pick It Out, It Hurts

BY Kodi Saylor

I smell it,
               tobacco & Campho-Phonique—
a memory that hurts.

Peeling white pulp from a squeezable body,
I eat an orange.

I’d have preferred that night to possess
policemen—just tender human beings with guns.

Is it rape or
                    not rape? That’s ALL
I need to know
—she said
after class on the subway home.

Not me, I want
                    a western view—a sunset
                    in flexible pink
                    through the windshield of a ford
                    key in ignition
                    hands on wheel

Bathing in a square of sun,
I curl up on the wood floor.
Bells ring.
My hands failed
to craft
the [    ]
in image but got
dappled bits of sun
damn right.


Kodi Saylor received her MFA in poetry at New York University where she was a Lillian Vernon Fellow. Her poems have appeared in Axolotl Magazine and Blue Mesa Review. She currently works at the Undergraduate Library in Chapel Hill, North Carolina.