Kate Porch
I fear
your death,
so much I
banish
you from it,
I press
your chest
to my chest,
as if I can pass
my blood and bones
between us,
can scrape
away
the places
your skin
has gone
slack,
like threads
pulling away
from their weave,
and stretch
my own skin
around you,
and once
I have tucked
you in,
I
will wear your body,
that torn umbrella,
cracked leather sole,
coat,
quilt,
boat,
and go down
under the sod
instead.
***
Kate Porch is a 23-year-old daywalker and writer from Miami, Florida. She holds a degree in Creative Writing from the University of Central Florida and her work is forthcoming in an issue of Black Fox Literary Magazine. Kate currently lives in Thailand where she is working as an elementary school teacher. She is enamored with faeries and ghosts, and is always searching for eclectic bars and cafes to haunt while she works on perfecting her latest drafts.