Poetry by Annalee M. Elmore

               ​eren {sea+prairie} CC



When I Was Born My Body Was Opaque 

as the knives                                  of your teeth     
still shining from the warmth of your womb,
                       
you bit the fleshy string                           and told me to become the crawlers 
that coat your floorboards          :                                        present but silent
 
once, my friend told me                           she never belonged to her body
my body ached                             because she believed that 
 
then i watched my body stand               still, feet subject to sap
& stuck               as worm in cocoon      
         
my body                             the luna moth greening
in moonlight                                   tails pinched off mid-flight


my body              the remnants of your body




Annalee M. Elmore (she/her) is a writer and visual artist living in Memphis, TN. She is an MFA candidate at the University of Memphis and the Art Editor for The Pinch Literary Journal. She was awarded the 2021 Deborah L. Talbot Poetry Award and was nominated for the 2021 Best New Poets anthology. Her writing has been published in Blending Magazine and The Academy of American Poets.
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