Last night I dreamed they took the old blue Subaru
apart for scrap.
And when they did, they found it full
of human ribs.
I watched the mechanic reach under the bumper
and pull them out, one by one.
Each with a little flesh, still on the bone
still wet, still red
like a maraschino cherry.
“Huh,” he remarked
as I stood behind him
tried to remember, running someone over
on my way there.
Fear welling up in my brain as he pulled a skull fragment
from an endless store of bones.
He held it to my face, and I peered through the empty socket,
woke trying to remember
who I am.
Mollie Jackman is a poet, graduate student, and copywriter located in Columbia, MO. Her relationship with poetry began in high school, and continued to grow through her BA in Creative Writing, leading her to apply for Lindenwood University’s MFA in writing. She is currently working on a full-length collection centered on a road trip to the Underworld. She isn’t sure what draws her there, but hopes to find out through the writing process. This is her first publication.