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always crashing

SARAH ALCAIDE-ESCUE / 3 POEMS

May 12, 2020  /  Always Crashing

MOSHED-2020-5-11-10-2-46.jpg

PORTRAIT OF MYSELF AS FOG IN THIRD PERSON

she waits in the velvet dark 
like salted hides stacked for drying 
a dead language emerges from her tongue 
in fragments fractals—a lineage of mirrors 
words soften like borrowed light
the lacuna between moon and sun
opens like a suitcase theatre
loss is a pair of broken spines strung up
a twisted staircase relics of what once was
what won’t be again a bird is only
heavy
when it falls 


FROM SEASON OF HUNGER

starlings murmur to upturned stones / their sternums splinter / as they collect the field’s plumed harvest / they build a room of cocoons / gossamer homes which crystallize us / like plums in jars of sugar / & the oceans spin-drift / as you pry apart mussels / & de-bone fish / as you anoint land with salt / the body as an exit / wound like / that one poem / always the rupture / never the conception / the patch sewn to the knee of hand-me-down jeans / ways in which a {cell, star, muscle} cleaves / you cleave / you whose bones crystallize / like plums in jars of sugar / our sin / still coating the ribs / of a unnamed animal

::

here’s the valley: river-split 
opening as the wolf’s jaws 
pine after the lone deer 

who drinks from a puddle 
in the parking lot 
of an abandoned gas station 


[ ] flesh conceals [ ] what can be harvested — 
those parts that get picked & boiled 
dried & stored for another time perhaps 

If there’s a pattern 
there’s a pattern  


DECIDUOUS

light hemorrhages

against

  

forest as nerves slip

sacrament        sacrum                  holy (b)order

 

wounded language                   the way language often wounds a nation

 

memory           a shadow cast              as heaved               hollow

 

half-words for fallow furrows            

 

i

( ) carry )

)
(                        roots

)

(

in         my

   m o u th

 

this season’s rot ting anthol ogie s

of langua ge              fold r ock

 

she d

 

th eir    shape

 

s often  as chalk                      rid ges   in     seas

  

  re aching         for

 

 

salt   y                                                              mar gi ns

 

s a l

t

 

t                                   o

  

 

b               e                        f

 

o

 

r

 

m
e                                                         d

  

f
 

 

r 

o                                              m

 

 

t           o                  n                  g

u                        e                      s

 

s i


s                                              t

 

e 


r                                                                c

i                                   s

  

  t                                                                 e

  r

 

n

 

 

s


Sarah Alcaide-Escue is a writer and multi-disciplinary artist. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Diagram, Mud Season Review, Permafrost Magazine, Bombay Gin, and Dialogist, among others. She's an editor at The Adirondack Review and reader for Plath Profiles. You can visit her website at www.sarahescue.com. 

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