Something to Dread

Marcella Haddad

I believe there is a spider behind
my ear. A day threatens
rain. An argument over bluetooth.
A catered mourning. At a
distance all I want is to
dig into the open wound with
petal-laced fingers. There’s
a row of souls on the way
to the same feast as us.
There’s a loop on the train —
endless — circling a lake —
sometimes I give in and give
up my seat. I can’t be
good at sleeping on planes —
I can only steal a little
circulation for the next
time I cry. There’s a little
long note at the end
of this letter. There’s a
neighborhood of offerings.
I’ve read about people
like us. I wanted to keep
this feeling at page-distance.
I wanted to shake out
thoughts until they were
emptied for a week at a time.
Instead I watch you play guitar.

Marcella Haddad is an MFA candidate at UMass Amherst, the Managing Editor of Moonflake Press, and an instructor at Grubstreet. She is a Tin House YA 2022 Scholar and her work has appeared in Everyday Fiction, Phantom Kangaroo, Apparition Lit, and others. You can find her in a tree, on twitter @marcie_via, or at marcellaphaddad.com

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