‘Inventory’ by Annelise Berghenti

Then, the burst of evening pageant:

You a blue panther, biting your own fur
and I a sad planet hovering near, counting my milk

teeth in their box. Lines etched in wood,
walls shaking with someone else’s laughter. In the mornings, always,

a little blood. I pressed berries between my fingers,
stuck ice cubes on my tongue,

then peeled the frozen surface off.
My nails
scraped candle wax from the good tablecloth

and under my skin pulsed the draft
of a door shutting at dawn,
                          shoes slipping down the ragged path.

From issue #3: autumn/winter 2016

About the Author
Annelise Berghenti is a poetry MFA candidate at Columbia University, New York. She grew up in Dublin, where she studied English at Trinity College.