top of page

Sarah Lilius

Updated: Feb 9, 2022

Traffic Girl Starts To Suspect

They put cables in the ground

for faster downloads.

There are screws with tags

in the asphalt.

It’s nothing they hide. I can’t put my body in this.

But it’s on display, a catalyst,

the smallest army of bones and flesh. They’ve resorted to my face on nature cam

like bald eagles in their giant nest.

I could lay down against the scratchy twigs,

garbage, and wet leaves.

Regurgitate Mac and Cheese

for my children.

Call it a day. The car feels like sanctuary.

But then a man in a boxy

black vehicle comes,

a warning this shit is real,

bread against my mind. In the night while they watch me sleep,

I dream of 1990 before AOL was online,

before my boyfriend/husband

with technological skills,

before virtual assault.

Who knows about this?

Who’s paid off?

Intricate lace stalks me

like a tacky wedding dress.

I’m already married, picked my fruit,

I eat it while they watch.


 

Sarah Lilius is the author of four chapbooks including GIRL (dancing girl press, 2017), and Thirsty Bones (Blood Pudding Press, 2017). Some of her work can be found in the Denver Quarterly, Court Green, Bluestem, Tinderbox, Entropy, and Flapperhouse. Lilius lives in Arlington, VA. Her website is sarahlilius.com.

Recent Posts

See All

Vots de casament I hear a woman yell but she’s a bitch! She’s a bitch. I sit on the red sofas of the Monarch bar, again, a beer. La más barata, por favor. Brindo por mis tías. Many alcohólicos en mi f

THE ROAD HOME The road home is full of dusts, on your way back you would learn to take Those classes you fled from, lessons of patience, how to marry the chaos softly, How little could mean bounty som

how to banish a ghost ritual is just another name for the habits grief carves from a mourner’s tongue. you empty your mouth until you’re a rabid song knee-sunk in your mother’s garden. prayers a rift

bottom of page