by Robin Gow
The music box was made of bullets in a defy-laws-of-physical way. Whenever I heard a gunshot my dad would say, “oh that’s just your sister playing her music box.” I don’t have a sister and the music box is made of thunder and fingernails. I miss my tongue. It’s cutting itself on the rim of a soda can. I drink carbon like water. I catch bullets like wasps. I use duct tape on the hole in the wall of the submarine. The water is coming. The water is already here.
Robin Gow is a trans poet and young adult author from rural Pennsylvania. They are the author of Our Lady of Perpetual Degeneracy (Tolsun Books 2020) and the chapbook Honeysuckle (Finishing Line Press 2019). Their first young adult novel, A Million Quiet Revolutions is forthcoming in 2022 with FSG Books for Young Readers. Gow’s poetry has recently been published in POETRY, New Delta Review, and Washington Square Review.