Volcanic ash brings forth life: fertile for green grass, but I am the obsidian shard wedged in the slope, sharp glass cooled too fast. Heat rushes from me like undulating fog storming into the ground beneath my high heel. I poke holes in the growth and laugh. See the reflection of what you used to…
It was nice in the dark with fabric softener filling my breath and the quiet with snuggles, self-soothing like my momma taught me when I'd scream for company. I learned to love the silken dark both warm and cold because it was safe and never confronted my comfort with expectations. But I was left without…
Lay me upon rhododendrons burgundy with blood long ago spilled by my grandmother’s knees on flowerbed bricks, on kitchen linoleum, on hospital bed rails. Lay me upon weeping azaleas and day (deprived) lilies holding the final strands of her hair within their roots. I will celebrate her life at the last with their death, for…
A marked path, pristine, sterile dirt finally buries all trash, litter, mutated monkey bones. Synthetic beauty of art and architecture: an acceptable loss to bandage over ever-bleeding deep human scars of utility, efficacy, and convenience that forever plagued the autotrophs. The last artist loses himself in fog, enfolding his essence between ancestral trees. He finds…
The more I gain control, the more I resist this world and become a bird of prey machine the farther I fly I become a raptor enraptured by smothering fog, shrieking tempo to every creek ripple, every butterfly effect I leave behind my husk, erased by fading memory. The static Nothing closes in on Fantastica.…
When I was a child, they never told me I had a uterus and my eggs were more valuable than I. They never told me my penis’d peers were the ones who could be whatever. I wanted to live /free/ my mind. They never told me the organ/ization I never asked for would follow me…
I posted this on my Facebook page when the SCOTUS draft opinion overturning Roe v. Wade was leaked. Now that it's official, so is the poem — on my website. It feels weird to tell you to enjoy the poem, given how I explore the implications of what is coming regarding women's rights, but commiserate…
A poem preview from my upcoming book Nulligravida, out October 31st! If you're childfree or a fence-sitter, you don't want to miss this. CW: This particular poem is a metaphor for either using emergency contraception or obtaining a pre-viability abortion. Photo by Daniel Absi on Pexels.com All I did was pick a weed but you…
In two days, my new collection Nulligravida will be released. If you follow me on Twitter, you'll know I've been talking about this for awhile, but this is the first mention of it on my actual website. (I know, I've been away for some months — I've been busy writing behind the scenes amidst the…
I never felt holier than when I defied holy men — when I spurned subservient prods by society’s pricks to become bare-teethed, brazen and bold, barking mad, Wild Again. My naked feet have been muddied in my own blood mixed with seed-laden dirt by roots of living trees, having spilled all weevil-infested progeny. Together we stretch our leaf hands to the…
National Poetry Writing Month
Keeping the world immersed in stanza.
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"The silence of the night awakens my soul"
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Saralyn Caine Poetry 