and poison sneaks out of frog skin, and Batman sneaks out of Bruce Wayne. Alleys sneak out of boulevards, and pennies sneak out of pockets. A baby sneaks out of a five-year-old Peruvian girl, making her the youngest confirmed mother in medical history (she won’t or can’t say who the father is). Layers sneak out of cakes, and Dorothy and the Lion sneak out of the poppy fields, and ruins sneak out of deserts. Weasels sneak out of their summer coats, and parents (try to) sneak out of their guilt. Stormy Weather sneaks out of Ethel Waters, and If I Didn’t Care sneaks out of the edges of my eyes, and gravity sneaks out of a late night fight—white faced, lead-limbed and low.
Lynn Schmeidler’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Awl, Barrow Street, Boston Review, Cider Press Review, Comstock Review, Fence, The Los Angeles Review, New Delta Review, Night Train, Opium, The Pedestal Magazine, Posit, Room, Saw Palm, SLAB, Tinderbox Poetry Journal and White Stag, as well as various anthologies. Her chapbook, Curiouser & Curiouser won the 2013 Grayson Books Chapbook Contest. Another chapbook, Wrack Lines is forthcoming from Grayson Books. Her most recent poetry manuscript, History of Gone was a finalist for the 2016 Eyewear Publishing Sexton Prize and will be published by Veliz Books in 2018. “1939, I Sneak Out Of Here” appears in that collection.
Artwork: Brooke Shaden