Fracture Poetry Competition Winner
After Rain
Madison Bertenshaw
I taste currents. Creosote, mud, agave, caliche, spines, javelina shit. You stab me like a cactus collecting the desert. Your body makes my home shiver.
I fell in love with your white heart, a dove stamped on your chest. I’ve never loved a man. This body was never mine. Homesick, splaying, sucking water like a weed after a fat monsoon.
I can’t remember the life cycle of plants. I lie in the wash like a good girl. I am engorged with water, consuming and releasing the smell of fresh excess, ripening under your nose. A dog can smell time. You sniff my crotch
as if it were not lonely any longer.
Madison Bertenshaw is a poet and writer living in Colorado. She received her MFA from the Poets and Writers Program at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst. Her work has appeared in The Swamp, Monstering, and Vox Viola, and she is currently researching and writing about congenital limb differences and identity.
