After photographs by Francesca Woodman

Head first from the bottom shelf,
I spill out, sleep-tumbled,
mirrored
in the yellow eyes of a stuffed vixen.

Here, my body in a chair.
Stains pool by my feet, or is it
my shadow? My shoes wait
somewhere.
Here, my hands sooty as sparrows,
thunder clouds,
and vex.

I look under everything.
I am a case, a box lot,
a windfall.
Sometimes, there are three of me with
the same face.

 


Eve F.W. Linn received her B.A. cum laude from Smith College in Fine Art and her M.F.A. in Poetry from the Low Residency Program at Lesley University. She has attended the Bread Loaf Writer’s Conference, the Frost Place Conference on Poetry, and the Colrain Manuscript Conference. Her favorite color is blue. She collects antique baby shoes, vintage textiles, and art pottery. She lives west of Boston with her family and two resident cats.

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