Lunchbox Poems

What if everything 


were revealed: where I was

last night. You, etc. The rain

is coming down like salad.


My sister’s hair


reminds me of my sister

so much I can’t 

stop looking. Who am I


to have arms? On the plane

one short dream:

a baby so small

it wasn’t even human,

just a bouquet 


of light with wise

cellular eyes. If losing me

is the worst thing to happen,


your life is still a good life

EMILY KENDAL FREY