This man thinks he’s so thick
sitting across from me with his legs
spread, grey sweatpants bunching tight
at his crotch. He leans back in his seat,
shifts his hip, hand on his thigh, makes me feel like
I’m eating this granola in the wrong way,
too seductive, asking for it.

Simultaneously raised in the boondocks of North Carolina and a small town in the south of France, Zoë Fay-Stindt has been writing since she knew how, following in her poet mother’s lead. She’s been published in Stone Soup, The Common Voice, and The Catharsis. She’s the co-editor–in–chief for The Common Voice and the assistant poetry editor for Concrete Literary Magazine. If all fails, she plans on escaping to Spain and becoming a mediocre farmer.

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