by Peter LaBerge
Daughters will slip into it as morning, will find a bible and a pair of nail scissors in the bedside table, will find an empty margarine tub, expired cosmetics, will harvest interest in withering fruits and forget the vanity, even if told to resist snakes, will listen to phone messages from their mothers saying losing virginity feels like scaling Niagara falls, will practice calculated experiences like studying and kissing two-dimensional earths, will research lessons of loss arched like bridges across centuries, and feed others pieces of themselves that have gone numb, will expect, in return, to feast.
Peter LaBerge is an undergraduate student at the University of Pennsylvania. His recent work is featured or forthcoming in PANK, The Louisville Review, DIAGRAM, The Newport Review, Word Riot, THRUSH Poetry Journal, Weave Magazine, and Hanging Loose, among others. He grew up in Connecticut, and currently serves as the Founder & Editor-in-Chief of The Adroit Journal.