Pram

Mamaw buys me a pram

for the baby I don’t have. I put the dog in,

and we prambulate in the driveway. I get an urge

to dress him in leiderhosen or frills,

push him through the weekday farm market,

both of us howling mad, both of us moony.

“Don’t upset the neighbors.” Says the mom-voice in my head.

I put my hand on my fat, empty stomach and think

of a hellbender in a red bucket.

Not a still roast in a convection oven.

I push the pram into the dusty garage,

beside the armor-all, the oiled tools.

I want that smell to pool in my pulse points.

The dog mills about my feet, I stare into his matted face

and blink like a beauty queen.


Amanda Rachelle Warren’s work has appeared in Beloit Poetry Journal, Anderbo, Crazyhorse, Indiana Review, Pacific Review, Cimarron Review and Hayden’s Ferry as well as other journals. Her chapbook Ritual no.3: For the Exorcism of Ghosts, was published by Stepping Stone Press in 2011. She is the 2017 recipient of the Nickens Poetry Fellowship from the South Carolina Academy of Authors and currently works as a freelance writer and poetry pusher.

 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *