AlyssaWalker

Coming out

Peeled away my skin like an onion revealed the layers beneath shades of colour I’d never shown before but somehow you still prefer the grey

For the first time I can breathe but you flinch as if there’s flames spilling from my throat instead of celebrating my newfound oxygen

What is it about queer joy that brings you so much sadness What is it about me that feels so disappointing

I’m stepping forward into me embracing every nook If I have to leave you behind I will but believe me when I say I don’t want to

IG@ericajvanstoneT:@EricaIsBusy

EricaVanstone

Deus Ex Machina

May the man behind the door be the pink underside of a shell; iridescent irritations that swell against the world–the grain of sand that becomes a pearl

May the king behind the iron gate be a prophet in the belly of a whale, bending to god’s will and my grail, stilling the wave that reaches high until beseeching my repent

May the dark horse be the one who wins the race–a deus ex machina setting the pace of a storm on the edge of a desert; shifting my scorching sands in the palms of his hands.

EricaVanstone

Sweep the ghosts from the doorways

Sweep the ghosts from the doorways, lover; we must make way for the living–while we linger in memory, they dance without fear

Clear the corners and cracks of their sinewy dust; of our yesterday, last Wednesday, last year

Sweep the ghosts from our doorways, beloved; their eyes peer from the square panes of glass

Let me tighten the shades to hold back their gaze from the pink-hued lips, exhalations that beckon; soon the clamoring sidewalks below come ablaze

Sweep the ghosts from your doorways, my heart

They hold you back with their sullied sheets, the unraveled dreams dreamt upon them still haunt. Singing backwards rhymes, you’ve spent too much time yearning to decipher the old want

You are the ghost in the doorways, departed; the light has returned while you clutch at the dark With cedar and sage, I’ve cleansed linens of rage He knocks at the door, skin aglint in the sun; while you rail against time, I alone turn the page.

IG:@laurieeavespoet.T:@mrleaves

LaurieEaves

The potter after the smash // she superglues the shards // as they once were // in time // finds the fault // lines rub her irises // returns to the wheel // works // wet clay // feeds in fibres & sand to strengthen // over the slip // hunches tongue tucked to teeth // remoulding to new // designs with each little revolution // now ready to let go // she’s grown // walls thumb-thick // kilnfirelicked she resurrects // her prize // solid & sturdy // in earthenware palms // a second splits // she thinks of sharing // this thing she’s built // herself // & it tumbles // from her hands // fingertips flying // to catch // before // it // breaks