that did not belong to her. Starch-white to please a God they did not know was at her ear. Marketplace sweet with pit-heavy figs & candied fruit stuck in the priest’s front tooth. A way to soothe the stomach after a meal or before a lit pyre. A relapse of self—that’s why they killed her. Sheared hair to her ears, breaches & smock. Burned her three times until passersby couldn’t tell the difference between spleen or heretic eyes.
Taylor Garrison holds a BA in history from Muhlenberg College. Her poems can be found in the Adroit Journal, Sigma Tau Delta Rectangle, perhappened, and elsewhere. Taylor is probably in a museum at this very moment.
