***
came to
Slip
fire
no
tide
was
her
name
***
one end, one fury
how I came
walking with my wings,
the villain
had no clue it was me
doom the night,
set the minders free,
walk on stone
with ankles that bleed
shape the world
the vision you please
peel the rock
make the sky, build the sea
squeeze this ground
juice the clouds, sugar trees
you are our
master creator here
you are the
psychic queen–
enter night
to ravage
imagined scene
blatant
blanket
demolishing
need
weakling walking witch
(nights eat minds
perhaps an astral battle
was a bad idea
I don’t know how
nights’ minds work
maybe they roam the
physical world
and the astral world
at the same time
what a crime
but you know I survived this
well enough to write this
but then, you don’t know enough
to know how)
you came here for a fight
I didn’t
come here for a fight, night,
no, I came
to take back Sliptide
and I came
to meet her lover’s mind
and you are
uglying up the sky
that I liked
from my first flight
in this green dragon night
so I’m here to trash your hide
welking witch come here
(when a night commands you to come
in the astral plane
you go
but you also
know
you can wake up whenever,
just spit out the straws–
if you could think yourself back to your body
to move your lips
to do that,
you could wake up–
but the night
couldn’t eat me,
I slipped out of
its grasp
like water drops
sliding from the oiled hands
of a rain giant,
it couldn’t eat me,
but of course
I couldn’t speak spells there
since I couldn’t really speak at all
so how did I defeat the night
in the astral plane?)
I fed it
the memory
of the first time
I got food poisoning.
I was thirteen.
Spent a whole day
in the bathroom,
vomiting,
hoping not to vomit
at the same time
as the diarrhea
since I didn’t have
two toilets–
my bones shook,
weak;
minutes lasted long as hours
hands not even
able to stand
to crawl myself down the hall
to find some bread
to feed my trembling stomach–
this night
had never felt pain before
(apparently)
so it screeched
something awful,
screeched liked hypnotic waterfalls,
and I dropped into the yawning mouth
if it could be called a mouth
rather than a mind slurping orifice
weakling witch you frighten me
fight me
I’ll eat you
no lies
astral creatures spread no lies
so I didn’t lie back:
you have no teeth,
I told it.
I will not fight you
on your rules,
I told it.
And I fed it the memory
of breaking my forearm
in secondary school gym class
when I tripped on a football
then tried to catch myself on the grass;
the pain
pulsed under my skin
like someone
strung a hammer
to my heartbeat
and pounded my radius bone
from inside.
I gave it
the pain
of the other girls
giving me those sad makeup eyes
burning the skin of my face off
until I wanted to suffocate on my own tongue,
and the night
really couldn’t handle shame
it had too much pride for that
so it screamed wider
and I,
the Witch Kook,
water drop
in the night’s hands,
gnat
in its grasp,
went fishing
for memories
went listening
for Sliptide’s cry
went
seeking
slick minds,
and in my astral fingers
I found more than one dragon,
more than green dragons,
more than dragons inside this realm–
Clarissa,
I found you.
Jordyn Saelor 