The House Called Fox in Yonkers

It could be twenty years on & still, the first  
snow each year reminds me of the last time you left  
my body as the blizzard approached from upstate. Each winter,  
the ghost of first heartbreak bites my side like the orphaned racoon we saw  
through the window of the train that night I thought I could love you forever.  

You create a permanent teleportation circle by casting this spell in the same location every day

I am twenty-three, 
riding the Metro North. 
I let my hair get tussled  
in the city, let the uneven  

surface of my mind crater  
beneath us on the train. Hooves  
graze against my chest, cautious  
celebrations. I tell you about  

Markov chains between stations.  
A mare appears. Docile,  
the animal stays in one place 
while possibilities leap between  

our future—the mare left  
a mark. It’s midnight &  
the moon plucks the apology 
clean out my mouth.  

SHANNON HARDWICK

Shannon Hardwick’s work has appeared in Gulf Coast Journal, Salamander, South Dakota Review, Plume, The Texas Observer, Four Way Review, The Missouri Review, Sixth Finch, and Passages North, among others. A graduate of Sarah Lawrence College’s MFA program, Hardwick serves as the Editor-in-Chief for The Boiler Journal.