July - Poem 20

Heartwood  / Clayre Benzadon

I want to go back
to who I was: less

sad and more serious.
Somewhat untouched

by illness. I sat near 
an oak and steadied

my ear near its heart-
wood. Inside of it,

I heart a splintered
drought. I braced

its branch-shoulder,
told it I had recovered,

but at a cost. In the treat-
ment center, I was lost.

At first, I couldn’t eat
or shower myself,

I couldn’t even speak.
Then I was racing 

with my thoughts,
running and rambling,

risky in stupor.
When I came back

to ground, I felt all
plants had crushed

beneath my feet. I 
apologized to the tree. 

Told it I needed
a year of sleep

before I could 
come back, not

to my old self,

but a more grown,
enhanced version.

14 Facts About The Nursery  / RJ Ingram

1 The train doesn’t stop here.
2 That would have defeated the whole purpose.
3 Mother’s Menagerie was still attached to the train.
4 But Sabrina managed to detached the nursery during her departure
5 It was an orphanage for the enchanted animals born in the menagerie.
6 Baby foxes asleep with their eyes closed & tapirs with rumps caked in mud & one or two haunted teacups there were quite a few ostrich eggs which have hatched since then too.
7 Sabrina saved them from living as mother’s slaves chained in the traveling menagerie.
8 But the mime was too dangerous to be left alone in a nursery according to mother.
9 Even without trying an untrained mime can conjure anything from nothing.
10 Even if the stuff the mime creates is invisible it still counts as chaos magic.
11 Even if the barriers fall down when the mime forgets they’re there.
12 Even if a mime wants to just pantomime doing something the mime’s power still makes nothing happen.
13 A Midas touch without having to touch anything.
14 Which is why Sabrina hired a babysitter dancing assassin to watch the mime junior.

The Importance of a Thumb / MeraBaird Kuar

I forget the pain until I move the wrong way, 
I keep falling asleep with my hair still wet
poems play merry-go-round in my mind
I pull my daughter away from the edge
she doesn’t fall from the bed, she whimpers
in her sleep, chills blanket her skin
I have something to say, the curtain
whispers in my ear and I can’t catch 
my thoughts are to take her back to her bed
but my thumb is asleep, it feels permanent

instructions for going to bed / Kes Maro

first pull out everything from underneath
your desk. spread it across the floor and pull
out all the trash. feel bad for thinking of it
as trash and swallow acid when you think
about moving it all under another roof again
eventually. put everything back on the shelves
this time in small bins that you bought to change
everything but really change nothing. wipe down
the window sill. kill a spider. it’s small and pretends
it is a speck of dust. you spray it with clementine
cleaning spray. feel spiders all over your skin. want
to cry. instead, rearrange the closet. finally pull that
cardboard box of shit that just had to go away
out and put it away. find a tub of paint you’ve been
looking for. put the cat in the other room. turn off
the big lights. walk through the kitchen without looking
at it so you don’t have to clean that too. trip on some
of the recycling. pace more. turn off all the lights. lock
the door and touch all the knobs on the stove in the dark.
clear small objects from the kitchen table. go into the bedroom.
sit down. look at the dirt on the carpet and remind
yourself that it is too late to vacuum. the task is too loud.
get up and go sit at the desk. move objects from one pile
to another on the desk. make it better. go back to the bedroom.
look at the contents of the bedside table. sunscreen should go back
to the bathroom. turn around and lock the door again.
your feet are itchy. so itchy. go brush your teeth and put in
your retainer because you paid too much to have just okay teeth
to make them worse by not wearing it. worry you’ve destroying
your gums by wearing it. go into the dark kitchen. fill the sink
and run the dishwasher. thats enough. go back to the bedroom
and sit down. lay in the dark and grip the edge of the bed
until your body surrenders or sunrise comes. fall asleep
when the light’s back, just for a while.

No One Filed a Missing Persons Report  / Azmia Ricchuito

I’m sorry that
the version of me
you know

is a person I never
imagined I’d be.

There was a time
when I had dreams;
now I sleep through
alarms

and remember nothing.

That’s why I didn’t hear
the smoke alarm
screaming
when the house
was burning down.

I hit snooze
and went back
to sleep,

inhaling embers,
breathing through
corrupted lungs
blackened with soot.

I don’t know
how much of me
survived the fire.

There was no one
to file a missing
persons report,

so sometimes
I search the ruins
for clues

to understand
what went wrong;

to find something,
anything,
that’s salvageable.

Some will say
what is lost
can never be
saved,

but I’m not
seeking salvation

I’m looking
for evidence
so I can remember

who I was before
the flames came.

I don’t know if
I’ll ever find out
why the earth
scorches beneath
my feet,

but I know that tomorrow,
when the alarm sounds,

I’ll try harder
to wake up.

Beneath the Surface: A Pantoum   / Tammy Smith

Summers by the town pool, my thoughts swim
like hammerhead sharks circling beneath the surface.
In chilly water, they sink so low they seem to disappear.
We’re both naturally shy, avoiding humans.

Like hammerhead sharks circling beneath the surface,
I crave the depth of solitude.
We’re both naturally shy, avoiding humans,
until the woman beside me says her daughter died.

I crave the depth of solitude.
Boisterous crowds at the pool’s shallow end annoy me
until the woman beside me says her daughter died
last summer, no one even knew she’d been sick.

Boisterous crowds at the pool’s shallow end annoy me.
In chilly water, they sink so low they seem to disappear.
Last summer, no one even knew she’d been sick.
Summers by the town pool, my thoughts swim.

Today’s Spread / Daphne Stanford

This morning’s soundtrack:
Bowie’s “Quicksand” & 
“Strangers When We Meet.” 

Aleister Crowley’s imagery:
First card out: The Sun. 
A dawning of the new.

Desert landscape quenched
By an Empress, crossing: 
Four queens in one; fertility

Crowned by the Two of Swords. 
Heel head over, but we’re strangers
When we meet. Rose & thorns.

Unconscious foundation: 
the King of Pentacles. 
Forget my name, but I’m over you.

In the recent past, the King 
of Wands. I'm in clover, but
We’re strangers when we meet.

In the near future, Temperance. 
I’m closer to the golden Dawn.
Me, now: Four of Cups. 

I’m sinking in the quicksand of 
My thoughts. Energy surrounding: 
Five of Swords. Stalemate. Fold.

Hopes & fears: Queen of Pentacles. 
Vines heavy with grapes, trees 
Bearing apricots, oranges, peaches.

Outcome: The World, clarified by 
the Ace of Swords. This is the 
End of the beginning: sword as

Sharp as the road she travels.
Unconscious: the Eight of 
Cups, clarified by the King of Cups.

Leaving for more fertile soil, away
From this desert landscape, holding a
Chalice out before him, waiting for rain.