Intentions

---

In the gaping hole of gauze that 

is my wardrobe, I pull at belts and

hems. If only

I could flick a lighter and make it all 

dance, red stalagmites. 

Instead, I pull down a romper

and stash myself into it.

Taking the gift, a bandage.

I hang my naked self at its place,

stash it back up.

The faithful blue dog yawns its petty yawn

of hunger for the better part of an hour.

Its carcass follows me around, runs

into my heels. If only 

I could kick it. And I do. It goes

belly up. Its trunk flails around

on the carpet. 

My boyfriend runs into the room

cocks his head, says,

Why are you kicking the vacuum?

---

Marta Palandri is a writer and software developer living in Vienna, Austria. Her poetry and fiction have been published on Soundings East, The White Wall Review, The Spectre Review, Noise Medium, and more. Her poetry was longlisted for Primers Volume 6 by Nine Arches Press. Her fiction has been published with Crone Girls Press.

---