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after thawafter aspen:
fog erases syntax
i speak a language of carbon
nitrogenphosphoruswater
mushrooms root
the forest floor
through red mineral horizon
‘round my rugged stem
each whispered web stretches
from ringed legacy
to ringed legacy
]
] i was animal
]
] devoured
]
]
] horse loggers
]
]
] bark beetles
]
] i evacuate my bones
let my flesh turn to tomb
an archive of misremembered
memorieslodged
in the spacebetween my lungs
in a thin voice
youth erodes—
a strange language prayerful
resurrected
my scales spent years in silence alongside the hollow vowels of a whale echoing through oil-black ocean
im smaller than a syllable body of fire coral & salt
my waterlogged languagedissolves with each inhale
mwtrlggdlnggdsslvswthchnhl
make me the colossal squid
not the one thawing in a salt bathcorehalf-frozenflesh
moon-pale & dissected
but the one who lurks in the Antarctic abysssearching bony
maps for seamountssolace
f l o a t i n g
through the submarine cryosphere
what i mean is
i know what it’s like to hold a dead animal
in my hands, to carve out creature’s breath
with bone knife, to know the precise weight
of its limp body, without ever looking
into its eyes—
i pretend to know
frac/ture of flesh & bone
]
] interglacial period
]
then: tectonic shift—
I want to breathe, and mean it.
Sarah Escue is a poet, visual artist, and editor in Boulder, Colorado. Her poems and artwork appear or are forthcoming in DIAGRAM, Lullwater Review, Dialogist, After the Pause, Tooth n Nail, So To Speak, Hermeneutic Chaos Journal, and others. You can visit her website at sarahescue.com.
This originally appeared on July 12, 2017