in a parallel universe, there is nothing i cannot do

there she lay sleeping there in the before what if they hadn’t woken her what if they let her finish her sleep cycle would she have emerged full grown butterfly some mix of sea siren & pj harvey’s 50 foot queenie some wild creature able to walk through velvet night or fierce sun without wavering without finger hand shaking without feeling the earth run tumble at her face what if they let her sleep would she not have shaken into something other in a taxicab would she not have stumbled through emergency room hallways clutching at the back of her paper gown would she not have one day forgotten how to drive without fear slick without a little piece of her slipping out would she have been a better mother the kind that could take her kid to camp that could take her kid on adventures be unafraid would she have been able to bring said child into the world without her heart stopping without yet another piece of her leaving like starlight from dying light bodies what if she could collect each missing piece of herself like some goddess picking up scattered laundry scattered toys across earth spin across puzzle shapes of continents across ocean salt that bubble choke in the back of a drowning throat what if she could magic all these scattered losses into something someone new & magic stronger than iron stronger than red rock stronger than the way creek tumbles & spill surges silver-edged from the violet night of mountain

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Jill Kitchen’s (@jillkitchen) work appears or is forthcoming in Crab Creek Review, The Dodge, Ecotone, Hooligan Magazine, The Iowa Review, The Night Heron Barks, Poet Lore, SWWIM, Tahoma Literary Review, trampset, West Trade Review, and elsewhere. Her work has been nominated for Best New Poets and Best Small Fictions. She lives in Washington, D.C. Find her at linktr.ee/jillkitchen