Some physical existence &
the yearning, always. Sky,
jaw-wide, hurtling fictions
to the ground.
this descent in slow motion,
this deft dive & this graceful
blossoming of loose dirt.
One delusion blooms into another.
You open yourself, look up
to the sky, & call the rain
by its name. This is how
the body is lost: one deluge replaces
another. This is how the neurons form:
their safe, strong tribes,
drowning out an actuality.
The sun rises out of my mouth,
my language moving in contortion.
I confess in my sleep, then wake
to undo the swallowing of all my
small whispers. Syllables strung
like a tightrope. It is high noon,
& I’m still sleepwalking, devoid
of control over this body. The waking
into spasms, dropping into
an endless self. & what is a dream,
but a slow shifting of the eyes. So I say
better to slip out of my mind,
than out of my skin. The finish
is in the hollows of my eyes
when I do not sleep. I stand
on the thin beam between rapture
& rupture, then go tumbling for weeks.
Alexis Bates is a poet and writer that explores the intersection of body and womanhood in her work. You can read her words in Luna Luna Magazine, Five:2:One, Vagabond City Lit, and elsewhere. Her micro-chap is forthcoming from Ghost City Press.
Logan February is a happy-ish Nigerian owl who likes pizza & typewriters. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in(b)OINK, Wildness, Vagabond City, and more. His chapbooks,Painted Blue with Saltwater(Indolent Books) and How to Cook a Ghost (Glass Poetry Press) are forthcoming. Say hello on Instagram & Twitter@loganfebruary.