With the Time She Had Left by Julia Story


The goats in the photo were all dead
As was the grandpa with his bowed legs and cigarette
His tall sister and their Ford
Most of the trees were dead
Having burnt up with the rest of the house
And the corn was most certainly dead
Digested by cows and rotated through so many miles
Of intestines who knew where it could be now
Dead was easy
Had always seemed easier than living if you want to know
The simplest truth of her life
Not the mad pull from
Hell they talked about in Sunday school
Or with a pale circle of family around when she was old
She would have no family when she left
And it didn’t matter as she held
Her own hand through the dim mansion of her head
There were mirrors everywhere leading
Her to the end and they alone wanted her
Even the floor was her mirror
Singing into her from underground


Julia Story is the author of Post Moxie (Sarabande Books) and the chapbook The Trapdoor (dancing girl press). She is a 2016 recipient of a Pushcart Prize and her recent work can be read in Sixth Finch, Tinderbox, and Gulf Coast. She is a Midwesterner who now resides in Massachusetts with her partner and two tiny dogs.