Open Holes
By Madelyn Biven
my body closes the holes
i step into the holes
they gather at my ankles
and i become stuck
they make me feel nervous
and skinny
like dancing with a ghost
the holes grab my bones
they make me stay
and hold me in this snow globe
without the holes
i would not have a reason
to move
Editor’s Note: This poem forever reminds me of the holes that appear in rice as it cooks, just before it is ready to serve.