When Iím down,

I imagine pedophilic priests
in a Claymation film.

It takes place by a pool.    
When they pretend to drown,
they donít get mouth-to-mouth
from the sculpted lifeguard;

their Play-Doh
just splits apart.

The Land of Legitimacy

I rule the market of iron-on family histories.

In the mall, they hold immigrant puppet shows
as non-native speakers
squat behind the pillar of salt
to escape alien trade winds.

Their adopted myopias swarm in my foundry,
ready to be molded and landed into lords.

In the flume, they crowned me, sceptered me with tallow:
a true fattening-up
of the birth canal.


Katie Hibner is a confetti canon from Cincinnati, Ohio. Her poetry has been published or is forthcoming in Bone Bouquet, glitterMOB, Modern Poetry Quarterly Review, Powder Keg, smoking glue gun, and Word for/Word. Katie has read for Salamander and Sixth Finch and dedicates all of her poetry to her mother, Laurie.