American Snake Sonnet

There are so few things without a reference; there cannot be a lover without beloveds.

Abhay wrote, You returned empty handed from the farms of love, his

ghazal a seeking. We believe in couplets as long as they are in service to each other and more.
As long as they torque

and hinge like the body of a snake resisting. Or the jaw of a snake

refanged. O scaled oblivion. Where in the body do you search

for feeling? There are those for whom not finding is the point—the price and

privilege. Without harvest, we attempt a different accumulation. There can be no farm without promise

but also risk. Call it yearning. Call through the morning’s mist for a neighbor or a pet to return more

than an echo. Whoever responds understands your lonesome

labor. Such a rarity, to be heard. I settle for a silence of my own making, attempt

to ask more questions kindly. Dissipate and gather. Using my hands

the way they’re intended, that both-ness of hold and release. Is this a necessary repetition?

O serpentine

recollection: everything missed is named beloved.

---

Listen

---

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