In women, in the hollow of the body below the ribcage, lies

moves around of its own accord and is quite erratic.

Aretaeus of Cappadocia

Wrapped in white towel, feet barely

reach cold bed bars, the railed perimeter

of shock-fled hairs maniacal by the pillow,

dragged electric, jaw hung low

and wondering what to cook or where

the kitchen went and how the door

stays shut, blank, or who made the room

so bright and pressured head to board

and buckled, strapped, sunk girl closing in

a wandering womb and gas-lit static spools

of red hair, pillowing magnetic, bare toes tip

to paint-chipped metal, curling over

the first cold surface, shock-skinned body,

convulsing, over the top bar, the bottom, stunned

volatile, but placed raw into space.

Karen Alayna Thimell’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in THIS LAND Press, Rattapallax, Connotation Press, and elsewhere. She is a graduate of the University of Pittsburgh’s MFA program where she served as Poetry Editor for Hot Metal Bridge. She currently lives and writes in Seattle.