Open Season by Christine Taylor

Dylan Krieger
June 23, 2018
Claire Hopple
June 24, 2018

Open Season

 

You could just pack a bag
get in the car”
drive into the rust and violet explosion
of sunset
forget candles long spent
withered rose petals
forced entry
bloody bedsheets.

A moth circles
the overhead light.

Your husky would be sat
behind the locked front door
the pup you rescued from the shelter
that day
you promised yourself
no one
would again declare open season
on your fields.

She’d be holding your ripped grey slipper
in her mouth
tail wagging
waiting.


Christine Taylor, a multiracial English teacher and librarian, resides in her hometown Plainfield, New Jersey. She serves as a reader and contributing editor at OPEN: Journal of Arts & Letters. Her work appears in Modern Haiku, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Menacing Hedge, and The Paterson Literary Review among others. She can be found at www.christinetayloronline.com

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