the night you called me panicked after you carried that halfdead dog into your passenger seat – carried her gently, like she was your matted bride, you stuck your nuzzle into my neck and we watched her pant and die, and this glued you to me more, that wheezing high-pitched tea-steam in which we read each other’s fortunes, and on the back they tell us important things:[inu]belly in sun
[dai suki]touch noses. my pet, does this all make sense?
the tea leaves say: bird, wagon, egg, sun.
does this answer your question?
Nichole Riggs grew up in Tucson, and studied poetry at the University of Arizona where she received her BA in English and Creative Writing in 2011. She will be attending the University of Notre Dame's MFA Creative Writing program this fall, 2014. Her interests include Brazilian dance, baking pies, Alice in Wonderland, and the gurlesque aesthetic. She has other poems published in Transcendence Magazine, and Harmony Magazine.