Celestial realms so blue, like a river
trickling, and I want to know where you are.
When you see this same sky, do you rush down
into the grass blades and let your mind cut
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.
Open, Close
7 states in 9 years—my adulthood summed up
in moves that kept me a little busy
to build very much I could keep my
newly situated self busy with.
My college professor would say
that was only the start of a poem,
but I don’t think he’s very
tired.
My college professor would say
Glassy-Eyed
You say, Can we go home? And I want to laugh, Honey,
we are home—this love, this respite, refuge, relationship.
This normal of safety, this routine—the place
Eve
My baby may not remember his birth,
his first dip into consciousness,
first thought on existence—
no knowing or wondering…
Hi
Gonna write something down that sounds like a lie
and make it feel
so truthful,
Reflection
One more time,
let me lift this frosted glass,
pinch the base of the oval with the hand I forced
myself to learn to write with, and stroke the mirror’s
rim with the back of the palm of the hand that had always
been meant to be dominant.
Caressing softly this frame that I seek myself inside,
I focus on the space separating the edge from the features
facing back at me from this spiderwebbed
center, and I wonder,
Crater Volcanic
It’s always the most blue
water that is lacking
bacteria needed for true purity.
Chico
Small town, dreaming about getting
out, to the small city,
coulda used it as a stepping stone,
but who could ever leave the great escape?
Surf
Tilt your chin up to smile down the sky at me.
I want your excited confidence to lift me up
when I know my love is what it’s in.
Alphabet Ravine 