Poem: "Hotbed 11" by Nikky Finney
There are women who wait at the door until you arrive like you said you would. Women who stand at the screen with their elbows poking in at the wire like original tuning knobs made of fossilized walrus bone. There are women who wait at the door until your car rolls up in the yard, the engine cut, the headlights shut, the driver’s door cracking the air into two slices of brown bread...
Excerpted from Finney, Nikky. (2020. Love Child’s Hotbed of Occasional Poetry: Poems & Artifacts. Evanston, Illinois, USA: TriQuarterly Books/Northwestern University Press.
Photograph by Forrest Clonts
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