Week 22: Spaghetti Squash

Every melting snowbank

draws your son in

like a melting snowbank.

Not moth to flame, but already

both—winged, insatiable

fire drawn to dismantle ice. Shoes

soaked. Hands burning.

He pinched a girl’s lip

so hard, they tell you,

it won’t stop bleeding.

Strategize, they named

managing his uncontrollable

body, his hunger

for a fistful of skin, sun

for water, body for more

body, your stomach

pressed into his face

until his mouth

was certain

of another’s.

Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach emigrated from Ukraine as a Jewish refugee at age six. She is author of the collections: The Many Names for Mother; Don't Touch the Bones; and 40 WEEKS (YesYes Books, 2023). She holds both an MFA and Ph.D. and is Murphy Visiting Fellow in Poetry at Hendrix College. She lives in Little Rock, Arkansas with her family.