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.