Salt


Mary J. Mahoney

oh white pill no
bigger than an aspirin
that brought back her
personhood why
do you fuck with
her kidneys

she pisses her pants
saturates them down
to her winter socks
humiliate her person

she pulls the hood
of her sweatshirt up
among the melons
in the produce aisle
heads decapitated
in multitude in a bin
before her 

oh cruel world
where pharmaceuticals
are like broken lovers
who salt your brain
with verse like morphine
but never when it matters
do they have your back

she says momma
we have to go

 


Mary J. Mahoney has published poetry and prose in many literary venues, including The Paris Review, The Kenyon Review, Prairie Schooner, Witness, Colorado Review, DoubleTake and Sentence. She is the 2019 recipient of the Anne C. Barnhill Prize for Creative Nonfiction from Longridge Review. Find her at maryjmahoney.com.
←previous                                                                                                                                           next →
HOXIE GORGE REVIEW