“cast” by Kate Peterson

i wonder what the men thought
who had to pick up the plaster molds
of my twelve year old body
little blue torso
two green thighs
the yellow one signed
with so much thick black ink

my mother told me i couldn't keep them
i lived in them too long
they stared from the closet
wishing i would come back
to fill them with my flaking skin

i walked them to the curb
holding them by their cracked legs
scraping my hands on the sawed edges

i still sleep with my legs splayed
as if wrapped in their unyielding fibers
and i wonder where they are

probably disintegrating
in some jersey dump
lying on their little backs
unable to move
unable to bend
watching the gulls fly overhead
day after day
night after endless star filled night

Kate Peterson is a second year MFA candidate at the Inland Northwest Center for Writers at Eastern Washington University in Spokane, WA. She is an Assistant Managing Editor for Willow Springs, and her work has appeared in Breadcrumb Scabs, Podium, Avant, and Eat This Poem.