“She won’t stop sending lamb hearts to the post office”
This poem was originally published on The Pittsburgher’s predecessor, The Dog Door Cultural.
The postmaster is exhausted, one more
Carcass, he says and we’ll send them all
Back. we will be doing her a favor.
The workers nod, but know the empty
Gesture, know he will hold the package like
A stillborn, gingerly, before sending
It out with the rest.
They are sick of the meat smell
But don’t protest:
They know the divine rightness
Of the customer. they know
We all want to love with the precision
Of a surgeon’s knife but have only our hands,
How we clutch at the warmth of a
How this makes extraction ragged. ▲
Melanie Greenberg attends college in New York, but is spending the year studying poetry and art history at the University of Oxford. In her poetry, she explores different facets of being alone or unseen and the comfort it brings, as well as the confinement. Melanie's work has appeared in Nixes Mate Review and the Eunoia Review.