I am protecting the wild space worm winding

between my vertebrae and down through the gaps

in my pelvis when I press my eyes closed

granite cradling me over the waves crumbs in wine

I can’t drink on Oxcarbazepine makes me sick

the wild space floats me in a greenish tide pool

rippling and clear my bones hover separate

suspended in lines that make up women and gods

and dogs

when I race on all fours no kneepads threads of

muscle thrum instead of hold tight, twitch, shiver

my shadow grows long wildness pouring from

poring from freckle and scrape. A corpse feeds

soil memory of little freedoms from before.

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Izzy Nameth Beck is an MFA student at Northern Michigan University. She is a Norton Writers Prize recipient and her other work can be found in the Long River Review and Discretionary Love. She loves her cat and Lake Superior.