Thoughts for the Caged Finch by Christen Noel Kauffman
When he sends you to your room to remove bottom layers piece by piece,
remember to fold into the floorboards under green carpet like matted crab grass
on your feet. Remember your father’s god was formed from a desert squall
but you can name every species of snake, place your nose to their warm forked tongues.
When he tells you how your body is a holy temple, remember when a boy
set the church on fire, lit the matchbox into kindling of a hundred broken pews.
When he bends you over his knees, swings his hand to meet the soft of your skin,
remember how pain is a series of receptors, an illusion evolved to warn the smallest cells,
to signal you into flight. When he tells you how you break is a tethered line to god,
remember how the earth survives a quake. This humiliation of exposed thighs
a series of Appalachian peaks rising from your chest. When he releases you back into the yard,
remember you have claimed your own beating heart, felt her swell and urge you run.
remember to fold into the floorboards under green carpet like matted crab grass
on your feet. Remember your father’s god was formed from a desert squall
but you can name every species of snake, place your nose to their warm forked tongues.
When he tells you how your body is a holy temple, remember when a boy
set the church on fire, lit the matchbox into kindling of a hundred broken pews.
When he bends you over his knees, swings his hand to meet the soft of your skin,
remember how pain is a series of receptors, an illusion evolved to warn the smallest cells,
to signal you into flight. When he tells you how you break is a tethered line to god,
remember how the earth survives a quake. This humiliation of exposed thighs
a series of Appalachian peaks rising from your chest. When he releases you back into the yard,
remember you have claimed your own beating heart, felt her swell and urge you run.
Christen Noel Kauffman lives in Richmond, Indiana with her husband and two wild daughters. Her work has appeared in Booth, The McNeese Review, Cherry Tree, The Cincinnati Review, Willow Springs, DIAGRAM, and The Normal School, among others.
Kelly Emmrich is an illustrator and animator living and working in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Her work has appeared in the magazines Moonhood Magazine, Dream Noir, and Meat for Tea. She studied creative writing and animation at the University of Mary Washington. She is currently working as a beer label designer for a microbrewery in Afton, Virginia and also as a freelance animator and illustrator.