for Caitlin

Daughtered with the dogwood’s
dirge, we expect

love to have
seasons, ceaseless

in its business of change,
inconsistency its own persistence.

Gravity and petals disclose
the antiromance of an age
ahead of innocence.

The syllables in neglect are more
dutiful than parents.

Undaughtered onomatopoetics:

the how creak of the floorboards,
the could you of stiff hinges,

a question mark of dust motes.

When the father
left, the river branched

into three and
she took a city of bridges.

Maggie Rue Hess (she/her) is a PhD student living in Knoxville, Tenn., with her partner and their two crusty white dogs. Her work has appeared in Rattle, Connecticut River Review, SWWIM, and other publications; her debut chapbook, The Bones That Map Us, was published by Belle Point Press in February 2024. She can be found on Instagram as @maggierue_.