Exclusion Zone
Summer solstice marks
the season of unrest, a lament
you’ve not heard. Once
we could count on storms, now
it just burns.
The last who remember before.
Flip phones or no phones,
no names on the net,
the computer’s place is a desk,
mistakes stay in the past.
From the window,
you wouldn’t know.
Sky blue and glare ghosts,
1950s and 70s cheerful,
streets empty of people.
Vultures wheeling a house
if the power blinks out.
Never knew someone lived there.
We scurry by in the small hours,
stirred up like hopping mice, burrowing owls,
and geckos. Little brown bats swoop
in the moonglow. An approachable furrow.
Leave my scratchings and readings, balmy
as a gymrat’s armpit. Bearable.
Not for long though.
Time enough to greet her,
sing some songs by the river,
scry her face for clues, ask
to know who I dream of,
where I belong.
Invasive Species
To be clear,
when it’s a tree spine snapping
-40 degrees, my order remains
iced black coffee.
I rock up with more vigor
than a fat flying squirrel.
Wool, boots, hat and go.
Black widows asleep in my bra—
when it’s on—bees bustle between
my thighs. Egg sack on my handlebars,
I leave well enough alone.
Skunks don’t trouble me none.
Called a kit from the dump
just because. Universal,
that scared baby trill. Where mama,
wee people hands grasping your skirt
adds years to your life.
Carrying all my groceries uphill over ice
without choice. Guttered in dirt slush,
well it be like that sometimes. Gravelly voice,
so slow to thaw, but it’s alright. It’s worth it
to mother what others miss.
Antihero Landing
Nobody squares up like a goose,
twenty four flapping pounds of fuck you,
these birds aren’t afraid to choose—
violence, yes—but partners too.
Oh they hit altitude,
go the distance, up and over Everest.
You read that right.
Seal Team Six shit—
sans imperialist trash. Silly
my ass. Never leave the fallen
behind. Be it your best friend
or your mate. Pity the lamed
fool whose dance card reads
my name.
Black Magic
When I had nothin’
but a place to sleep, a nest
of discarded things. Push pin mural
of gig posters off telephone poles,
pretty wrappers, and feathers.
Fallen branches strung with beads
and fairy lights. Traded heat
to smile inside. It’s not childish
if it’s how you survive.
Known a few ate guns for less,
got a brain throws fay gang signs
but I count myself blessed.
Sparkly depressed. Back then.
Bit like Tarzan. Bit like Tangled.
Come at this bitch sideways
and you’re best case scenario mangled.
Peace is when I can see myself
in my surroundings. This always seems
like absolute destruction
to those around me.
Chthonic Singles in Your Area
Women’s voices evolved
for range and specificity.
Language birthing.
But men,
theirs were selected for beauty.
Pleasing texture. I think,
I wonder, if First Woman walked
today, would the Goddess know
him by his timbre?
A worthy man
could only be broken
in this world. His signature, however,
intact. The most important piece.
The oldest stories speak
to her loss, to the betrayal.
A dragon, a serpent, denied
the sustenance of her consort.
Without him, only monsters born.
Not on her end of course, nah,
she can do what she wants,
ain’t no wrong.
But Jin, that spells apocalypse!
That’s just a woman’s prerogative.
If it’s not at her pleasure it ain’t fit
to exist. You get what you get.
Consider this your litmus test.
Bootstraps
Anyways, it’s not glass slippers,
it’s snake print Doc Martens.
Helluva time tracing these tracks,
closest I ever came to a prince
this funny dream I had way back,
running him down in the woods
at night. Some freezing, tar feathered
disaster boy. He was terrified.
Good times.
Can’t imagine what I look like
on the other side.
If you can’t get farther, you can just
be more. Full eldritch horror.
Gods said I’m bound to the earth.
Been a fuckin’ grind, for sure,
and the best bargain for youth
is body. Baby, one sip
of me and it’s the forever
kind of sleep.
Rule of Thumb
I pour the fucks I give
from a silver thimble, spiderwebs
off this spindle. Even so,
if I think well I say so, if there’s love
at all I’ll let you know. I am unsubtle.
Every day, every which way, because any day
could be your last. More than Covid
taught me that.
Always take an extra beat
for who shuffles their feet,
leave an extra seat, push back.
We’re tagged on a feed lot
headed for slaughter.
Sold a plan for life when we’re older.
Wage slave, stripper, or soldier.
I won’t roll over. I’m tired
but I’m still my Mother’s daughter.
The last text my coworker
ever received was me miles from her
asking if she needed anything
at the hospital.
wyrdwind 