in the bones. 
linda harris dolan

i miss you in the seventh vertebrae of my thoracic spine, 
which it’s no surprise to find, is nothing but the center— 
with shock-white angles and the harsh-red woman tartar
of muscle and nerve clinging to it, spongy, and through it. 
is it any surprise that my ache for you is not in the soft spot
of barely protruding adipose between my naval and pelvis? 
that it’s not below my sternum, between my breasts, 
in a cavity filled with organs and to-do lists? 
that it’s in a hollow circle-spike amidst the base
of my scapulas, filled with the intangibles, 
not the place that feels like center—the place that is, 
with the brittleness, the permanence, of sharp-stabbed bone? 

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Linda Harris Dolan is a poet and editor in New York City. She holds an M.A. in English & American Literature, focusing on the postcolonial, from New York University, and she’s an M.F.A. candidate in Poetry at New York University. She’s a freelance editor and has taught writing at The King’s College and New York University. Linda is Poetry Editor for Washington Square Review. 

You can read our interview with her here.