Black Box

Black Box Margaret Malochleb (bio) After the deadly fumes. After his body droppedto the garage floor. After his outstretched handwas tucked neatly under him, the zippered bodybag taken away. After the condolence note,penned by the policeman who came to checkon him. After the aftermath: a void akin to losingsomething never possessed. The mind rifling,as through a snowdrift. Grasping stones, twigs,a dented locket at the bottom of the cold damp.After the turn of a season, how the one still alivespins in a different orbit. Curdled milk aswirlin the mouth, voice tinged with glass, rust, the wingsof juncos lost in migration. After the leather gloves,discovered at the back of a drawer, his imprintstill inside. After the rough wool of what never was,what might have been. Trying to excavate a lossburied alive. After the flowers were dried, thennailed to the silent tongue behind the rememberedkiss. After the struggle to uncoil longing from grief,grace from dignity: the urge to become animal again.Steely, keen, beyond the torment of the sun assaultingthe world into green. Finding a way to muscle through it. End Page 68 Margaret Malochleb Margaret Malochleb is a poet, writer and editor based in Chicago. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Rattle, Painted Bride Quarterly, Rust & Moth and I-70 Review, among other journals. Copyright © 2024 University of Wisconsin Board of Regents