Rachel Hinton lives in Chicago (U.S.A.), where she works as an editor and tutor.
Her poems have recently appeared in Cimarron Review, the Denver Quarterly,
Zocalo Public Square, and Apt.

He Figured It Out

How to help vanilla beans have sex with each other.
He said Do you want me to do something with this?

Then he thumbed smartly
the little pocket of pills
that adhered to the stigma.

Now they fall off the column.

You can do this with your thumb, easily unearth
a little dry bean from its perch,

dimensionalize it. It's a sexual paste
so be careful the words you use
for the thought you thought was purity,

for what fibers were pickpocketed for you.
There was no indication either way as to why,
when he offered, I took it from him,
why I accepted, regardless of intent, this thing in hand—

Can you share a share with yourself
or are you stealing when you
unpacket the lightbrown closure

at the flower's own checkpoint?
Or is it more like a blur
something that was going to be glossed over
something that was just going to happen anyway

Now I Have Something I Can Often Feel

The 2.7 x 1.8 x 2.3 cm likely-physiologic cyst contained by my left ovary
has maxed out. It makes me happy to say it is only slightly

irregular in contour and may represent an involuting follicle or corpus luteum. No solid elements
are identified related to it and it is not vascular

as if in a mirror a coin were seated.
It was found after a process that has affirmed

many oks I said to the lady out front.
I did my 2 pees in the bathroom

as I was supposed to do, and I looked down
and the chalkblue gown looked good on me. They were

so proud of me when I was convicted
of my long bloody doing exactly what I was

supposed to do, they said I was skinny enough to scan
and I did feel proud and wanted Marcella

to be proud of me, I have this industry,
this going concern

and I have lived
in a clot of powderest blue

benign as I am, unlikely to divide
by the singular, unlikely to have

that excuse, to say anyone would look
good in this way,

and I have blinked and been impossible
to miss, I already knew that but

now I know I am called a coin

What I wanted when I said god has all the facts of the case,

they will be served, he knows the intent of the heart
was to work in my garden. I wanted to remember my own dirt was
good for sticking the spine down, it was good for my father
when a possum smelled of iron, that I cried when
a cat licked my face. I wasn't ready. Something
was taken away from me and I was proffered an atavism
in which I'm conserving my strength and
on those days, pineneedle days it felt right to tell you
you are free to do as I do
because I did walk moss-heeled with actions and decisions,
because I did look on the clouded street and see
with clouded face my bus was, thank god, approaching.

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