Afterlife

AFTERLIFE

“I’m not committed to life,” she said
and her body was ash beneath

the moon. She ate a pomegranate down

to its last seed, took a breath
and confessed.

Pumpkin seeds tasted like water now.

She often dreamed of swallowing
an entire swing

so that she might take that swaying motion with her.

But then she was gone, her dress
off-kilter, the heels scraping away,

and the moonlight was a severed man

on the nearby bushes
and hydrangeas.

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About mckenzielynntozan

McKenzie Lynn Tozan lives and writes in South Bend, Indiana, where she works as the Departmental Secretary of English and World Language Studies at Indiana University South Bend, and remains closely affiliated with 42 Miles Press, New Issues Poetry and Prose, and Wolfson Press. She previously received her MFA in Poetry from Western Michigan University, where she worked as the Layout and Design Editor for New Issues Poetry and Prose and as an Assistant Editor of Poetry for Third Coast. Her poems have appeared in Encore Magazine, Sleet Magazine, Rogue Agent, Thank You for Swallowing, Whale Road Review, The James Franco Review, The Birds We Piled Loosely, and Analecta; and her book reviews have appeared on her website and on The Rumpus. She lives with her husband, their daughter, and three cats. For more, visit www.mckenzielynntozan.com. View all posts by mckenzielynntozan

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