Kelly McLennon Kelly McLennon writes poetry and fiction. She earned her B.A. in English from Sonoma State University and is currently working toward her MFA at Concordia St Paul. A former intern at Copper Canyon Press, the California native now lives in Minneapolis and is an assistant poetry editor for Narrative Magazine.
THE RECONSTRUCTED SELF There is a cobweb where my bed used to be & a ragged hole in my throat. Colored light emanating from the gash, prism wrapped around my vocal cords choking First night back I dreamt of kissing a woman & god it felt right. I dreamt of abandoning my friends because I was sad, wanted to sulk couldn’t decide if I wanted them to find me. I punctured the sky coming home, the plane a piercing in the cloud’s face. It wears me reluctantly. The books I buy tether me to the world, as if the weight of paper and ink can be enough to keep me from wanting to die. Perhaps the guilt is all it takes to carry on, a need to make myself worth these words. On death row the inmates receive a final meal before the chair. I will feed myself on books, hope they never run out.
1
