today i look the half-pig
in its eyes entering
the cooler it stares
from the icy lower shelf
& asks what i am
grateful for fragile things
end up in pieces back here
& pieces end up
inside us i am open at
every point all pore
all milky eye all blood-
filled glove i shuck
brine straight into ex-
posed veins salt bodies
absorb bodies i break
a hinge find tiny & red
& stunned with cold
crabs alive inside
the oyster alive inside
itself i know because it
was closed before
i cracked it wearing their bones
on the outside they are easy
to break we are all exposed
here parts of everyone
end up in the disposal
it takes years to collect us
back from the drain
Marina Greenfeld is a poet from Southwest Florida and Central North Carolina. Her work has been published in Pleiades, Denver Quarterly, DIAGRAM, Cream City Review, and others. She holds an MFA from the University of Mississippi and works in scholarly publishing in New York.