Poetry
Five
20
Memorandum pink
the magnolias
are currently remembering
every last spring.
Fog clung
as fog will do
to the hills over the river
in Owego.
I kept wanting
to put an s in somewhere.
I feel my mind
like a buzzing hive
acrawl with cooperating bodies.
All the colors of the last weeks
bled into a single stream
of light from the headlamps.
Every river we've seen
the same river.
I'm as chipper as dime-store
but it's just as cheap.
I'm watching you
watch me & wondering
how to pose, how best
to catch & beggar
the brimming
of the river
alongside us.
22
Going sweet
at the sound of a certain
voice is a wrong
turn sometimes
Let's wander
into the desert & do
our best not to wander out again
until we've truly starved
It won't take long
We are very small
fellow animals
Do you remember
the pale then bright
yellows of spring
when those still came?
Droplets of water
collected in patterns
on glass
when we still had glass
to keep them out?
I remember
Yet
the clear bald light
of the apocalypse
separates into rings
on the ice
too
25
Gelid silver thaw
a gliding into sleep
well that's for someone else
I'm a word on your tongue
coined geologic ages ago:
carboniferous
Deaf like me
means I can hear even very
subtle shifts in you
& sound has color the way shade
in the woods has scent
& dominant land vertebrates
Innate which branch are you
the person you are
standing upright
in a glaze event storm
A body can be sufficient shelter
even at its weakest moments
of atmospheric density
Cruel pixels
your heart is in the right place
but no mountain no orbit farflung
no all-sucking collapsed star
could be more wrong
You're an age
that must come to pass
the heating of the plates
the cooling & drying of the climate
Glaciations scar
every tissue so
we'll grow them
new
29
This isn't how it's supposed to work
& play suspicion along golden edges
To represent the journey
you'll need a stack of pages
the time the trip took you plus
all the days you'll never get back
A blank in every socket
a locket on a chain glowing
at the edges in a shroud
of dark enamel In the corner
the dresser speculates What
comes tigereye at last
coaxed open What agate center
of us rife with rhizomatic
lily of the valley sweetly
scented toxic
the last thing
left
30
When is pleasure a pressure
I've got a new gap in my line
the way I feel things sometimes instead
of hearing them It's not easy
to explain Speech is not remote
but a solid thing that slips
& you & I are both receding into it
into backlit space frosted
& agleam like galactic junk
The pond once teemed with us
Alienation never knows whose pronouns to use
We live under shame's grammar accent grave
Yet dissenting like the new shoots
that form in summer from the barest
green of spring so many buds
no catastrophe's maxed out enough
to crush
Contributor
Shanna ComptonShanna Compton is the author of Brink, For Girls & Others, Down Spooky, and several chapbooks. The Hazard Cycle, a book-length speculative poem, is forthcoming from Bloof Books. These newer poems are from a fifth book, as yet untitled.