We cling tight like feathers
in a butcher’s grip, while knives
slice through freedom’s flesh,
cleaving the tenderest bits,
letting trimmings fall.
Vital organs hit linoleum,
a steady rhythm of loss
Starving, we scavenge
scraps, each a pledge
of what could have been—
could be— gnawing
on crumbs of justice,
while they carve
indifference
into
neat
portions,
cutting away the fat,
leaving us with sinew—
raw and exposed.
We sit on the floor,
trying to make a meal
from the leftovers,
spreading remnants
into a feast, lapping
up a future
we can’t taste.
Maudie Bryant is a Pushcart-nominated poet, multidisciplinary artist, and educator based in Shreveport, Louisiana. A graduate of the University of Louisiana Monroe (M.A. in English) and a mother, she explores the complexities of memory and identity through her work. Connect with her on Instagram @maudiemichelle and Bluesky @maudiemichlle.com.
The Marbled Sigh 