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YOUR CART

Natalie Padilla Young

So Close to the Ground

Such titles:          Husband
is ugly         Wife is worse.   This marriage can drive
now. One of my oldest friends’ oldest
just finished high school. Husband says
everyone’s kids are graduating       have
graduated. Meaning:             We are old enough.
 
We are not young.        The moon at its youngest
is a sliver      hanging over
                    the mountains. I’d like to clip it off
place the illuminated thumbnail
in my purse.                 See Grandma’s perfect
nails unsnapping an uncluttered bag. Since she left
 
I’m inclined to buy
handbags       spend too much
knowing she’d approve.        There’s no more room
in mine                not even for the moon. I try to pare
but I’m too married
to being prepared:        bandaids        lozenge
 
bobby pins     Benadryl in three forms
for him           husband     man of more
allergies                   more than enough
to swell the throat shut. A surprise defense
against what should be known
by now.               This marriage is two dogs down
 
+  two dogs at home. One
who also has allergies           so close to the ground
he carries it all.      Until it gets washed
       down the drain          
to benefit dog and man        the two who knew
Grandma. The new dog                  such a pretty thing
 
she would have loved
to look at him.     This marriage was two
years a teen                  when                   She could be
lovely                  mean.                  So can the little dog
all his clean or dirty fringe    one minute a kiss
the next      teeth bared

a stored grudge.                So can I.     You think
you know a dog      and then you see him wet.
Sept / Oct  2023

Natalie Padilla Young
Natalie Padilla Young co-founded and manages the poetry magazine Sugar House Review. By day, she works as an art director for a Salt Lake City ad agency. Her first book All of This Was Once Under Water is newly out from Quarter Press. Natalie’s poetry has appeared in Green Mountains Review, Tampa Review, Rattle, South Dakota Review, Los Angeles Times, Tar River Poetry, Terrain.org, and elsewhere. Natalie serves on the boards of Utah Arts and Lightscatter Press. She lives in southern Utah with the poet Nano Taggart and two dogs. Follow her on Instagram for many pup pics.
Art: Hilma af Klint. The Ten Largest, No. 7 — Adulthood. Oil, tempera, paper. 1907.
  
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