C. Francis Fisher

A Beast Without Parameters

I pull the butter from the fridge,
unwrap its waxy paper, place the stick
between my molars at the two-tablespoon mark
and bite down. Chew, swallow, all before
it has time to melt. When you walk in,
there is nothing left but the paper
balled up in my fist. You pry each finger
from the greasy mess. Throw it in the trash.
It all started the night before.
I was both horse and jockey.
When I woke, there were hot red welts
in the corners of my mouth. I told you
what I’d seen: the flesh of my flesh,
muscular and seizing. The race had not been won.
Each horse keeled over while I galloped by,
indifferent to bulging eyes
and foaming mouths, unable to stop my legs
from churning. When I finished my story,
you told me you’d had the same dream.
Same horse, same welts. Together, we got out of bed,
rubbed Vaseline into the corners of our mouths,
drove to the lookout before the sun. On a branch,
inches from my face, an Indigo Bunting reared
blue against the morning light.

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C. Francis Fisher is a poet, translator, and movement artist based in Brooklyn. She is currently pursuing her MFA at Columbia University where she teaches composition. Her writings have appeared or are forthcoming in the LA Review of Books, No, Dear Magazine, and Asymptote among other publications. Her poem, "Self-Portrait at 25," was selected as the winner for the 2021 Academy of American Poets Prize for Columbia University.