i. when he thinks you

cold so you sit in the

kitchen, matches in hand, trying

to decide when enough will be

enough. the scorches on the tile,

your mother walking in, and you, swallowing



ii. when he climbs you, when he sifts

your gold, leaves

the dust in your lungs. when he is

in you, when he whispers

dirty in your ear before getting

up, getting dressed, getting back

to warmer someones.


iii. when you relight

matches from the inside, burn a hole in

your throat. when you finger

the dust, the debris that

muddied your skin— when

you become someone

warmest, whole.


Charlotte Covey is from St. Mary's County, Maryland. She currently live in St. Louis, and she earned her MFA in Spring 2018. She has poetry published or forthcoming in journals such as The Normal School, Salamander Review, CALYX Journal, the minnesota review, and The Monarch Review, among others. In 2015, she was nominated for an AWP Intro Journal Award. She is co-editor-in-chief of Milk Journal.