there is a limp scarf laying over top the lamp of my life there is a unique gore to waking up I say thank you to my shards of quartz for bone edges I sign reluctant hymns, I pray to a void, I pray to avoid I try to resurrect pollen I try to herd my straying selves I wring the life out of blood oranges I swallow peach pits whole but I can’t navigate in this dimness eggshell walls mute my violet moans encase my wet wicks for eyes I dance in the dust bells for sleeves milk snake entwined thighs I place bay leaves in my baths I screw pink bulbs into light sockets heave in solitude at the altar a crown of devil’s club and honeysuckle there is always cause there is always effect
Savannah Slone is a queer writer who is completing her M.F.A. in the Pacific Northwest. Her poetry and short fiction has appeared in or will soon appear in Glass: A Poetry Journal, Crab Creek Review, FIVE:2:ONE, Pidgeonholes, decomP magazinE, Crab Fat Magazine, Pithead Chapel, Hobart Pulp, and elsewhere. She is the Editor-in-Chief of Homology Lit and the author of HEARING THE UNDERWATER (Finishing Line Press, 2019). She enjoys reading, knitting, hiking, and discussing intersectional feminism.
Twitter: @sslonewriter
Facebook: Savannah Slone
Instagram: @savannahslonewriter