Scientists Have Shown That December is the Most Popular Month for Break-Ups
Jill Crammond
In public,
I smile as wide as I can and everyone
shields their eyes from my light.
- Jane Wong
Under the covers,
I build a fairy house of moss, call my ex-fiancé.
Hours pass in silence, in slivers
of light I wear like shadows.
Have you ever smiled so wide
your mouth gets stuck in the shape of a cave?
Ever walked inside your own life and been afraid
of the bear sleeping between your ribs?
I can’t decide between love and luck
so I choose losing.
This is fate, I tell my flattened pillow.
When I wake I am not the size of a fairy
but dirt and grass cover my skin.
Fear of the future lights the room,
or maybe the sun hibernates.
My underwear drawer gapes like a stuffed grizzly.
The ring box throws itself open, growls,
Feed me. I have been asleep so long.
Jill Crammond’s poems have appeared in Tinderbox Poetry, Pidgeonholes, Unbroken Journal, Mother Mary Come to Me Anthology, Fiolet & Wing: An Anthology of Domestic Fabulist Poetry, and others. Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and her chapbook, Handbook for Unwell Mothers, was a finalist for the 2021 Two Sylvias Press Chapbook Prize, judged by Victoria Chang. She lives and teaches art and preschool in upstate NY.