I walked around in someone
else's contact lens and found

myself. Empathy teaching
replaced geography for the

most part. I don't do fractions.
The Wide, Wide World is a

book I did a Lacanian analysis
of. I was obsessed with mirrors

and the psychological break
between Ellen and her mother.

Jo read the book in Little Women.
My mom and I both wanted to

be her and marry a professor
with a big black umbrella.

My eyes are dry. I don't know
what is important anymore.



The pillar of life is the greasy

pole. You have to wait until

everyone has used it to get

anywhere. I don't know what

that means. My emails are

insecure. I haven't checked

if I got hacked. All you have

to do to avoid poisoning

during ramp gathering is to

just sniff each bulb as you go.

Gloucester parades their winners

and saints through the streets

From pillar to post, these throngs

have dried me. Our lady could

appear on a telephone pole to

comfort us, but not for long.


MAURA WAY’s poems have previously appeared in DIAGRAM, The Ocean State Review, VERSE, Beloit Poetry Journal, Drunken Boat, and The Chattahoochee Review, among others. Another Bungalow, her debut collection, was published by Press 53 in September 2017. Originally from Washington, D.C, she is a schoolteacher in North Carolina.