I’ve been trying for months to work moxibustion
into a poem that isn’t about sex. According to
personality tests I exhibit higher-than-average
levels of aggression and I do not dispute these
findings. The first time I saw my father slice
the head off a bluegill I stared into the eye
closest to me until the jaw stopped moving.
My therapist says I carry the traumas of both
my parents but can’t point me toward a sensible
place to drop them. There are people I love only
because I have to. I swing between empathy
and apathy like an aerialist who’s been training
for years. When I was a child I would always
develop crushes on villains and still do not
know what that means; astrological sources
blame my birthdate for such shortcomings.
Whenever I’m alone in a forest I cannot shake
the feeling that I’m being watched and can
convince myself of a mountain lion’s presence
in less than five minutes. I drive poorly but know
how to handle myself in the snow. I throw
threats around like an up-and-coming boxer
in the 1930s. I rarely feel like I’m winning but
I made it all up to this point. I made it all up.
Annaka Saari
Annaka Saari earned her MFA from Boston University where she now works as administrator for the Creative Writing Program. She also serves as managing editor for Solstice: A Magazine of Diverse Voices and a poetry reader for The Los Angeles Review. Her writing has appeared in or is forthcoming in The Southern Review, Pleiades, Image, Cleveland Review of Books, and other publications. Her website is annakasaari.com.
