you might be the only thing dead i still love or even think of you haunted museum of radiation when your children left you were immortalized in the cold and i want to feel walk through you your dilapidated streets sleep at your cold breast never used ferris wheel virginal idol to lost wolves if you still sleep alone at night i want to come to you count the dinner plates laid on tables dust the magazines i want to smoke your cigarettes wash your ash trays before filling my lungs with your beautiful finality hear the strays howl see the ferris wheel carts sway in the breeze taste the milk of your chernobyl your tumor your savior i want you to feel life being lived inside you one last time
Hannah Kludy has been published in magazines such as Neuro Logical Literary Magazine, Sledgehammer Lit, and Variety Pack. She lives in Kansas City and spends her time irritating her husband and giving her dogs cream cheese.
