Singing on the clouds like an army—
bodies, robes, warriors guarding,
so adjacent I can’t see through the wall.
Melodies like weapons fending off
for my protection, I don’t know whom,
for what lies beyond?
Angels, I want to know—why
are you watching? I would not look away
from any of the doubts, questions,
Author: Alphabet Ravine
Lydia Rae Bush (she/her) is a poet exploring themes of embodiment and social-emotional development. Her work is Best of the Net nominated and can be found in publications such as Corporeal, Querencia Press, and Bleating Thing. Her chapbook Free Bleeding is out now with dogleech books.
Will-o’-the-Wisp
Lost in the dark,
all the little things I can imagine
like stars,
Tiger
Nothing to fear but fear itself, so roam the rivers and vines—
you won’t feel the hairs raise on your neck at the black
stripes on red once you’re already dead.
But some days, I go to lie in the thicket—
pause my mind’s deafening silent maneuverings,
the artful weavings of my bulky, firm heart.
Bargaining
I talk to you sometimes,
and make you say the dumbest things,
things that you would never say,
because every time I make you say
Daffodil
Black goes with everything except pastels,
but I don’t want a classy sky.
I want pink, yellow, robin’s-egg starlight,
to match how soft it feels—
Requite
Nausea
and vomit
and things I care about
Fight or Flight
My little brain
thinks it can help,
Ruminate
I apologize in my mind,
endless intentional scenes,
then slip into fantasies of you
rubbing the base of my skull on a table.
Accounting
Putting everything that we don’t need to
prove, because it can’t be proven, because it can’t
be proven wrong, on the list of things
we’re free from,
Hunger, Thirst
Taught my epilepsy how to drive,
got my independent streak a little drunk on empowerment,
made a piece of art at 2am so decided god mustn’t hate me.
Started to leak, said, oh no, touched it, saw it wasn’t blood.
Looks like I’ve got inspiration that isn’t uterine.
Alphabet Ravine 