prep_re_ness
_ _ the game is to draw one
or the other to the end in pieces
until someone made whole
can swing _ _ we argue how to prolong
our fate _ adding hands and feet _
lank hair _ sagging gut _ a frown
or round O for a mouth _ _
i make poor decisions
spelled out in two letters or three _
answers simple as will or won’t _
moody silences in between _ _
will you feed the dog _ _ will you
iron this shirt _ _ will you take some
part of me with you when you leave _
_ you do not know you will
someday leave _ but i am ready _
sealing nonperishables into walls _
learning how to rig up
the generator _ remember your voice _
all those ways you could tell me
_ yes _ without saying the word
without even a sound _ all that yes
filling the blank spaces
until i have no more room _ until
i have to say _ no _ please
stop _ and i find myself giving away
everything i saved _ _ look outside
_ the games are over _ _ fires burn
between broken glass _ abandoned
cars roll over upon cracked highways _
_ the air may not be breathable _
cannibals have ripped apart our neighbors _
but it’s warm inside the bunker
i made for us _ _ i draw neat gallows above
seven short blanks _ pretend you don’t
already know what I’m thinking _ _
Lindsay D'Andrea
Lindsay D’Andrea is an emerging writer at work on her first collection of poems. Recently, her poems have been selected for publication in On the Seawall, Sho Poetry Journal, Ploughshares, and the North American Review, among others. She currently lives in the Philadelphia area with her family.
Find her on Bluesky or Instagram @lindszd!