betty by Amy Bilodeau

 

your beau calls you
betty your name is not

betty
you don’t remember

your name
where is your mother’s

dusky dinner-call
where your certificate

of existence
down some dark

safe your mate feeds you
from his manly mouth his

bristlescritch! against you
o blank anonymous body

you begin to feel like betty
how you imagine

betty must feel
look at you

all monikered & mouthfed
you are so in infinitely betty

 

 

This poem was an Honorable Mention for the 2018 RHINO Editor's Prize.

AMY BILODEAU’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in Two Hawks Quarterly, Connotation Press, Monkeybicycle, Sweet: A Literary Confection, and elsewhere. Her full-length manuscript was a finalist for the 2017 Four Way Books Levis Prize in Poetry. She lives in Bloomington, Indiana.