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.
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 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.