The Family Freezer
       

I am in the freezer, getting numb:
around me are hunks of frozen meat wrapped
in white butcher paper, popsicles in old iced boxes,
frost-bitten burger patties, bags of frozen peas.

My tongue sticks to its roots—I can't scream—
soon I won't kick anymore, then I won't breathe.
I won't feel a goddamned thing as soon as my heart
stops working and my lungs silently freeze—

That's the way it happens in here: the lights snap off
and I'm trapped in this dark place they've put me.
So I close my eyes, let them ice over, and I dream—

that there is someone out there, fighting my family
on the other side, pushing up against the freezer door.

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Copyright © 2017 Jodie Hollander All rights reserved
from My Dark Horses
Liverpool University Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission