a mound of butter

Before we met, I had a thought I’d paint
a mound of butter more famous than

Vollon’s. How his painting’s cream
did not soften the ego—

Now, the thought winces. Now, I am
all interior feeling, all terrified love,

All ants climbing over each other
searching for cause.

Some days, I picture myself burying
you with my ambition,

two fish tongues wrapped in brown
paper that I lay soft in the earth.


Marnie Ritchie is an Assistant Professor of rhetoric at a liberal arts university in Tacoma, WA. Her poems appear or are forthcoming in JukedFIVE:2:ONE’s #thesideshowBurning House PressMoon City Review, and Yes Poetry. Find her on Twitter: @marnieritchie