June - Poem 18

If the Day is Kind / Kristina Byas

I’ll set my thoughts down,
leave them waiting for tomorrow,
to consume me then.

When My Therapist Says “You Matter” / Shavahn Dorris-Jefferson

your words—
little sticks of dynamite
thrown directly into my heart

Hvaldød  / Jess Tønseth Lee Gleason

There is no whale worth this cliff –
the sun sporing itself through the clouds
objects, looking down on the whales,
the cliffs, us, skvulpet on this roll
slid sideways, the pink and indigo of its eye
fryder in our jig towards the jags
of the crags, the zig and zags of trials
from these spiked slabs our bow
aims toward, despite our arms at the wheel.
The sun will watch us break on the whale –
the whale break on us –
the cliff breaks all grønn on its brun.
All oil of something will slide out
from someone’s fat and svaier on the storm
woken waves, tipped pink our noses, ears, fingertips
before breath squeezes out, then iceberg-bones us.
Senke oss ned i våre graver så dypt –
wake us, sun, wake us whale
warm us, steer us, uncliff us.
Hør oss if just once before the sun sits behind
our rudder, our clouds, our lives.
Å senke livene våre dypt inn i det neste –
deep, død, deep.

Above him is the heavy fatherhood of his father,
as it was not uncommon for Beryl’s father to remind
him of the boy’s privilege of having a father at all.
Beryl’s pities his father for the drum set 

in the Galleria window he never got that his father
promised. At 12—it is good to be humbled, 
yet there is a sting of feeling that comes with feeling
lucky to be a rock amongst rocks. It is natural,

that Beryl is searching on Ebay for a drum set
that matches the description his father gave him?
Midnight blue metallic shells with silver hoops and
a black face underlined in pearl—a one of a kind.

──────────────────

2. build
     the pal
‍ ‍ace
the sky

Pythagorean / Jingyu Li

Calendula  / Stefanie Zito

Cheer up they tell me
With their perky blooms and chunky stalks
Calendula know how to keep on the sunny side
Ornamental, edible, medicinal, cosmetic, prolific
Well, I too am rising and have much to offer, but
Even calendula tighten spent petals over time
Tucking themselves in
Curling, hardening
A spiky pod of colorless crustaceans
Dive into soil below
Stashing themselves for future unveiling
A jackpot boasting future blooms,
Merry and golden.