Rachel Milligan is a graduate of the University of Iowa Writers' Workshop, and a 2014-15 recipient of a Pflughaupt Fellowship in Creative Writing. She was also a 2013 US Department of State Critical Language Scholar in Chinese. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Similar:Peaks::, Sonora Review, smoking glue gun, Foothill: a journal of poetry, Lyre Lyre, and elsewhere.
In another life, this was all so much more
solid. In another, I woke up to freshly fallen
snow and hated it. In another, I ate licorice. In
another, I ate tea stains, off-center and oddly-
shaped. In another, I ate little dreams. In another,
I was a skin-covered sour sponge. In another, I
charted blood. In another, I fed thirsty toads and
crows. In another, I felt your breath on my neck.
In another, I sucked sap from my own limbs. In
another, I carried myself softly like soap bubbles.
In another, I hummed forsythia. In another, clouds
of wasps prepared waxy nests for my armpits. In
another, ice crystal clavicles. In another, there was
a thumb inside my skull, there was a bad year for
seasons. Another skin fits inside another urn.
Another. Pass around the glass. Watch me burn.
We met staring down
into the same well
filled with asian watermeal
I noticed his eyes caught too long
on my lips. I have leaned over
the plaid side of a plaid couch
Alone in a room with orange webworms
he left me half an apple & instructions: let
fall limp when no one's
I walk home
fall toward the edge
of my ability to carry
He makes me
cloudy like broth
The fishbone steers toward
catches the stork