Margaret Ray grew up in Gainesville, Florida and holds an MFA from Warren Wilson College. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in FIELD, The Gettysburg Review, Threepenny Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, Alaska Quarterly Review, and elsewhere. She teaches in New Jersey.




Margaret Ray

The Problem of Where to Put Things


Say your uterus is killing you. Say that phrase is literal, or call it chronic, knife-point pain. Say someone says hysterectomy, and then you have to change your plans, the size and shape of your life, empty out the rooms in your imagined future. The future that once galloped freely, ranging across all the hills of your mind, now it limps and you have to pen it. Remove the pain from one vital part of you by subtraction. Say you have to make such a decision, make preparations in the mind, even if you have someone to drive you home. The organ, though, the empty, hurting house — you have to let them cut it out. And the imagined children, the version of your life that branched away, some time ago, from where you now survive, do you just cut that off? No, you do it like you shoot a beloved, dying horse. Whispering softly to it, you lead it gently down into the horse-sized hole you dug, then fire.




Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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