Cedar and birch drift beneath stone arch,
carrying you, carrying me, like the aliens we are
through black hole into universe unknown.
Author: Alphabet Ravine
Lydia Rae Bush is a former Language Arts, Creative Writing, and Poetry instructor, writing on topics such as Intersectional Feminism, Sexuality, and Dynamics of Dysfunction. When not writing, she can be found singing and dancing, especially in bed when she is supposed to be going to sleep.
Crop Tops and Claws
They’ll spit the word “fashion”,
as though what they’re trying to vomit out
isn’t un-silenced, honest expression.
They’ll tell you how to dress, as though
they’re not saying how to feel.
They’ll condemn all impermanence,
as though phases aren’t actually stages
Together
If I love you and you love me,
we both I Love You, even as
we flip each other’s pronouns ’round,
fights with you in her dreams/keeps on waiting for a sign/regrets you all the time (A Response Poem)
The first time I screamed,
I stopped when I felt guilty.
The sixteenth time, I stopped
when I felt like I’d gone mad.
The hundredth time, I screamed ’til I felt
I’d shown myself to be too insane to come back from it-
100
old words, new ways
different chapter, same change
always some cents short
hazel
mosaic around irises,
glowing between eyelashes
green, gold, yellow, and brown,
like fresh leaves on autumn ground
each glance I give:
my heart’s footprints
Legends
A.
What makes a monster?
Whether having hooves or claws?
Or the mere look in their eyes?
The story’s been told. Heroes know
what becomes of monsters.
Must Be Fear
Your irises always sing an aqua harmony,
but I cannot make out their shades, when you
sit me down to hear your tale.
If the tension in the air is any clue, there must be fear dancing
in the wrinkles around your eyes,
but I am trying to count colors. I focus to discern.
Gaslight
You single-handedly lay and stack each strand
of the haystack.
I burn these allergens down one by one.
You wave the needle in my face
like an escape hatch,
burn through your accusations one by one-
The Nameless One
Loves- older, newer-
convene,
form a cohort,
whisper conjectures to name her love.
Love is ever Strong,
eight months hardly Quick,
and the greatest myth
is that love cannot come again.
Loves come closer, with
Ardent, Intense.
Yet, still they puzzle
on their multitude.
Alphabet Ravine 