By Suzi F. Garcia
There’s a beast in my belly, so they locked me out of paradise. I circle outside,
search for a new entry; when I throw myself on the gates, the fence burns
Please, my tears freeze on my face. Weeks pass, and she moves from belly
to heart. With each pump, my blood purples, my teeth grow into sharp points.
On my knees, I scratch and dig, I growl. Let me in. I cut my own tongue on
mauve the river ice at my feet. Months go by. My head aches with her, my
back a snowstorm. I am coming for you. I shake the gates, I howl, I twist
them open at last. Their fear has fed me, and I am warm despite the lack of
I make my own heat. When I am finished, I walk back out the gates—reborn
I have crowned myself with antlers, and this world is my home.
Source: Poetry (March 2020)
More Poems about Living
A spring snow coincides with plum blossoms.
In a month, you will forget, then remember
when nine ravens perched in the elm sway in wind.
I will remember when I brake to a stop,
and a hubcap rolls through the intersection.
An angry man grinds...
At the Equinox
The tide ebbs and reveals orange and purple sea stars.
I have no theory of radiance,
but after rain evaporates
off pine needles, the needles glisten.
In the courtyard, we spot the rising shell of a moon,