Where I’ve Worn This Body
I was raised to carry this body alone
to the riverbed where crawfish spawn,
in the open moonlight—
where the rock crevices no longer hid
them. Our bodies ritually shed
exoskeletons & cells linger, fray, forgo.
The hush of the cold moon smothers
the night’s breath: I recall your face as our
waterlocked bodies drift the creeks.
The anxious crustaceans
scuttle the night floor leaving their burrows
behind. Their bodies wait
to collide, to join. My body, far from yours.
Terin Weinberg earned her MFA from Florida International University in Miami, Florida. She graduated with degrees in Environmental Studies and English from Salisbury University in Maryland. She has been published in journals including: The Normal School, Flyway: Journal of Writing & Environment, Red Earth Review, Dark River Review, Split Rock Review, and Waccamaw. Terin received a 2020 Best of the Net nomination for her poem “My Grandfather is a Submarine”. Her work was featured in Z Publishing House’s “New Jersey’s Best Emerging Poets of 2019” contest issue & is in Rewilding: Poems for the Environment, a 2020 anthology.