You were born blind. You woke up in my arms
Green as exotic fins,
in the moonlight.
Aunt Mariana’s hair
That’s why your memories lapse.
at death. Uncombed.
Emerald eyes.
Her crown of sea glass.
So we clothed her in a dress
Smooth and pale
with tiny green frogs.
her tongue on her lip.
No, you don’t remember.
You never will
She stabbed the deer twenty times.
understand
Bloodied, she stabbed herself.
how green her hair.
A sacrificial slaughter of some kind.
As if she grew from a belly of kelp.
Rosa Nagle hails from Boston, MA. She is an experimental poet and playwright. She has had both poems and plays published in literary magazines.