to move forward

was rope &
was anchor
was crochet hook
thru the glottal,
defiant in
counting chins

we reimagine
our etchings,
the soil
once sulfur
pulses thru
oracular insistencies

i am gathering
my army
& you
are buttering
your army’s

in an age
of sunsets
& you (always?)

to be a sister
is to hold
a metal tongue
she says
i kneel
for a knell &
hear my own name


Abi Pollokoff currently is pursuing her MFA in poetry at the University of Washington, where she teaches and interns for The Seattle Review. Her work has appeared in 14 Hills, Bayou Magazine, H_NGM_N, and Guernica and is forthcoming from Broadsided Press. A former editor in chief of the Tulane Review, she won the 2012 Anselle M. Larson/Academy of American Poets Prize for Tulane University and was a finalist for the 2013 Fellowship to the Writing by Writers Workshop.