Fidelity
Chainsaws on summer mornings
wake you from razor-red dreams,
drag you from the harsh softness of sleep.
In another life, you wake in another woman’s
bed, with vomit on your sleeve.
In another life, you ache for this one.
Ache for someone to instruct you,
to invent a time machine,
take you back to when the earth
was soft beneath your feet.
Women follow you home,
trace your footprints, mimic your breathing.
They will try to see themselves in you,
braid meaning into your hair.
The sound of a father is not the same as the touch of one.
Hallie Fogarty is a writer, visual artist, and poet from Northern Kentucky whose work explores memory, the body, and lesbian identity. She is currently a first year MFA poetry student at Miami University. Her work has been published in Vox Viola Literary Mag, Juven Press, and others.
Pegasus 