by Abigail Browning
INSIDE ME
is timber from the Mayflower,
ribbed barrels of hard tack and salt meat.
Hungry waves, against the gray-green
Appalachians. Love, I never
wanted to drop you to the bottom
of Little River, tie your tusk to the
list of what you were not. But inside me,
hundreds of worker bees zoom their infinite
wings, and music welds my bones together
like a pack of desert wolves.
–
Abigail Browning recently received her Masters in Creative Writing from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro, where she will teach as a lecturer this fall. In addition, she is a contributing editor for the Tate Street High Society, a blog about writing (www.tatestreethighsociety.com). When not grading or writing, Ms. Browning teaches swing dancing and vernacular jazz across the country. Along with Yemassee, her poetry is forthcoming The Greensboro Review. (www.abigailbrowning.com)
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