healing – Jordyn Saelor

and you weren’t there

Maybe the library was a god who died without my belief to sustain it—or, my belief plus my proximity because I’d always believed

Exciting news: Graveyard of Lullabies is in stock at a queer bookstore called Under the Umbrella! (Just in time for spooky season.) You can find their website here. Now, if you read their homepage, you may notice this bookstore is located in Salt Lake City, Utah. So you may then ask, Jordyn, are you localContinue reading “bookstore news”

offer on the table

Here’s the offer: I swallow the bomb of my trauma and it keeps me silent unless I spew it. Mouth full of metal, peanut butter on the roof of my fridge, I won’t take the deal cuz I know you never had to bleed like the moon for a miracle, never wore so many scarsContinue reading “offer on the table”

savage

The village stranger loses her curiosity after a year or so, the adventurer learns the names of the log cabin dwellers

moon wave

I didn’t want anyone to adopt me, I could take care of myself just fine probably. Or at least I’d made it this far. But I sort of wanted what

2 Seize a sky

I paddled toward the plant-covered shore . . . so I could sprawl in the mud, waves lapping the backs of my knees. Nothing burst out of the grass to eat

By the light, oh

deliverer sea deity it knew everything there was to know about the moon, every moon on every world

Winterbound

Can’t ever get warm inside, can’t it ever get me warm inside? I go feasting on dreams that fail to fill my belly, I go feasting on conversations and spinning discourses that only turn me dizzy, some people are more down for a debate than a decision; in this divide, there’s dreamers or there’s doers,Continue reading “Winterbound”

Percy

Passionate Percy, have mercy on this mortal, for terror and evil have they known.

I keep calling for this rain

If you quell the pain, prickles remain, and I feel so detached from the past, I could be a stranger in the memories of danger, like they burn a different skin. I wanna heal from the thunder squeal, but my midnight brain plays the game “How can we twist imagination’s eye to warp this pictureContinue reading “I keep calling for this rain”