Step One

                   I stood    

in a thunderstorm


                  & stared in the window,


watching them dry 

                                       in their home.


                 The umbrella I carried


I am different from other people


                               at my side, my mouth 


open, some notion


                  of a chicken, to collect


water. I thought 


                                the family stared back


at me. I thought they gawked &


                 spoke. That I was beautiful


soaked, a picture. &


                               I stood


& no one watched me


             preen. The slick of a slip


stuck to my body. My body,


                             home to my diseased


brain. What did the family do?

                                             They counted down.
It never stopped         


                            raining. It never stopped
​

being cold. 


​

Shevaun Brannigan’s work has appeared in Best New Poets, Rhino, Redivider, Slice, and Crab Orchard Review. Her manuscript Why My Mother Is Afraid Of Heights has been named a finalist for University of Wisconsin Press’s Brittingham/Pollak Prize and semi-finalist for Crab Orchard Review’s Book Award. She holds an MFA from Bennington College.