Raleigh Review
501(c)(3) Nonprofit 
EIN: 27-2644341
ISSN: 2169-3943​

Elegy Stitched Together
  
by Caitlyn Curran

It’s just that idea like you’ve lost your keys
for good and no spare, but no really you’ve lost

your car or you’ve forgotten where you live,

the street and color of joy. Is your hair falling out? It is now

in strands like ridiculous eels at the surface of the brown river.

Slitting up and back down with their slender tailbodies, rinsing down

the drain. Remember I would straighten out your black hair

with my fingers—it was always on end and nothing like mine.

It just wouldn’t sit. It’s just that you sat in the truck,

but I remember you underneath with the tire on your back

as I tried to find a seam to unhook.

There were no stitches, no hooks, the tire was yours.

A tire seems necessary like employment or a trustworthy dentist

but it will burn and spin and land like split open

fireworks unable to stop exploding in a young hand.

It’s just that there is more than one fuse. The hand is gone

but someone picks it back up in the gravel.

The show explodes back into the dark sky.

It’s just that I saw your blood underneath

my fingernails and I kept it there for weeks.

I never wanted it to wash away like common dirt.

After each shower I would check and make sure

it was still there and it was, believe me it still is

and now I try to bite it away with loose-teeth dreams

in the mirror they are falling to dust and shaking

like unstable bricks like a dog her jaw shifted from the car

that hit her, her last face a growl her shining long bite-me teeth

​dry and misplaced but the blood stays there I keep biting

until I bleed and it is still your blood isn’t it?