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I Want You to Imagine Me

as magma

in a cast mold

of appendages

and a head;

I am always


in between

a truck engine

and river stones.


the earth is a hand

caging me

in warmth.

the earth

is a shoulder

heaving me

into alien light

and dad driving

and mom wading.


before I can touch

anything, my fingers

deaden into land;

what does a key

feel like? Can water

chill my skin?


I want you

to imagine me

as magma

in the shape

of a god’s


see me

as the vortex

of riverbeds

and combustion,

let me

even in thought

meld her copper hand

into his tin.

About the Author

Jerrod Schwarz is the managing poetry editor of Driftwood Press. His work has appeared in PANK, Entropy, and many others. He lives in Florida, warding off mosquitoes and alligators with equal parts savagery and precision.