Will Empty
by Inga Lea Schmidt

    like a pitcher filled with water tipped
    		a shell that held a crab snakeskin exoskeleton or anything
    			that’s shed
    		the sense in skin when a nerve is pinched
    		pudding scooped from cup
    			to plate
    		a room when the people in the room leave the room and the next
    			room they go to when they leave that
    			room as well and the next
    		and the dead bulbs they drained there
    like a hand falls loose from a hand (with purpose)                                     
    like a mouse breaks free from a paw (with purpose
    		and squirming)				 
Packingtown Review – Vol.9, Fall 2017

Inga Lea Schmidt holds an MFA from Hollins University. Her work has previously been published in Puerto del Sol, CALAMITY, Gigantic Sequins, Cosmonauts Avenue, and elsewhere. She lives and writes in Pittsburgh

  1. Jean Wolff