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Planning the Breakout We began as greenbones barely knowing to crawl: bumped against walls of the home cave painted thick with ragemaster God, more hair than a pack of wolves, and our own perennially fruiting madonna whose sweet bell shape was wrapped in lamb-smelling cardigans. It was usually winter. The cold was a glittery grizzly, with palisades of claws. We learned our place. Northerners mate, ride and die on glaciers, where the bride's dress is an icefall of lace and the corpse's full beard snows over his earth suit. Red twilight turned to black frost and the red brand of the home saved as it burned. The hive of the family provided abundance of sweet. Still, the year came when I (mama's pearl, papa's youth of flint) thought canaries die here and plotted my own abduction. Rock bricked me up, front, bottom, top and sides. Cave fire gilded the coma of time. Never mind. The young, like murder, like art, will out in the most surprising places. And stubborn blood melts rock. Margaret Benbow Margaret Benbow's poems and stories have been published in The Ekphrastic Review, The Georgia Review, Triquarterly, The Antioch Review, and in other magazines and anthologies. Her first collection, Stalking Joy, won the Walt McDonald First Book award and was published by TTUP. she has recently finished a new collection, Wild Peter Thinks About His Humans.
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The Ekphrastic Review
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July 2026
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