Mary Ann Honaker


 I always feel calm in a cone of lamplight, fabricated evening. You or him.  The cat’s in the window chirping back at birds.  It’s not a friendly chirp.  Him or you.  If I’m looking to my body for answers, the answer is clear: my vagina actually opens like a set of automatic doors when you’re near.  Imagine standing there “mmm-hmm”-ing along to a conversation.  Goddess Aphrodite, what is love? She replies, You are opening.  Imagine trying to sit quietly in a folding chair.  Chir-irrr-irrp! declares my cat, whiskers spreading like wings.  If I am a set of automatic doors, you are a fire door, the color of danger. Cat, what is love?  He replies, Sometimes my voice is a mirror.  You’re a fire extinguisher, bottled velocity, and is it an emergency?  Emergency.  Upstairs, my boyfriend flicks the lighter of a poem.  Goddess Hera, what is love?  She replies,  A hearth that must be stoked.  Molten skyline, and I am attempting zen while a predator at my shoulder whispers, Feathered thing, you are my food. 

Mary Ann Honaker holds a B.A. in philosophy from West Virginia University, a Masters of Theological Studies from Harvard Divinity School, and a Creative Writing M.F.A. from Lesley University. She has previously published poetry in 2 Bridges, Harvard’s The Dudley Review, Euphony, Juked, Off the Coast, Van Gogh’s Ear, The Lake, and many other online and print publications. Her first chapbook, It Will Happen Like This, was released by YesNo Press in 2015. She currently lives in Beaver, West Virginia.