If I had no head. If no one raced ahead of me. If I could complete the task, finish the thought. If I had a horse to take me there. If my feet were not fastened to the ground. If I received instruction, or a letter, or an empty envelope. If imprinted. If I could make myself a mirror. If I could make a mirror an ocean. If I could make an ocean a forest. If I could find the pass, the pasture. If a fleet foot. If an ocean-going vessel. If the boat could be bailed. If I could find the mouth of the whale, the fibers of its dry teeth. If I drowned. If I did not drown. If I swallowed seawater and filtered out foreign bodies. If my mouth were so large I could not see my feet. If I had no feet. If a house had no footprint. If I slid along a glassy surface to a yawning doorframe, fast, made fast, fastened.
Laura Kochman, originally from New Jersey, is currently an MFA candidate at the University of Alabama, where she is the Poetry Editor of the Black Warrior Review. Her work appears or is forthcoming in the Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Copper Nickel, alice blue review, Bat City Review, StorySouth, and others.