Examine, Isabel, why you removed yourself from all this feeling. Isabel, Clarissa, sitting in a tree, best pals forever, don’t you see, first leave family then hurt friends then earn witch names on a graduation stand. First comes love, then comes terror, then comes capture at a dark school no one’s ever heard of.
Tag Archives: poem
Sisterhood of Spite
Do you remember any of our friends’ whereabouts from witch school? I know Dylanthia went back to the ancestral lands, Pogoth crossed the rainbow snake and got eaten, Xlthan fell into a mirror and met a new crew to hang with. Sometimes, though, I wonder if any of my friends were actually friends.
live forever
What’s the biggest asteroid of my heart still spinning ‘round inside me? I don’t think it’s you. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s the knight I killed on my seventieth birthday
1- Examine
We went to witch school, you and I, hidden in the outback of Australia– which witch school, the one shifting between realms of new times and wild climes, the one with the potions plot and the spellcaster squad, the school for the demon kids who drew fickle fire from the air.
I obliterated this heart
because the tyrant lived there. Like a bad head louse it couldn’t let go of the power pulsing through me. The power of anger, reckless abandon, and love. My stomach might be the star at the center of my solar system body, but even large planets and hearts pull stars to their gravity a little.Continue reading “I obliterated this heart”
So villainous & tyranting
How do you stop the rebels from rebelling? Easy peasy. You set them up with someone telling them things to think. Two, you point their guns away from you, at whatever villain you can trick them to believe wants to hurt them worse than you.
Dogs
Please, I’m one of the dogs, this time, preaching to the preachy choir about how to start the fire. To hunt after our violent ruler, we must prepare a pact, bind the pack and make our dog hearts wolves
My Power
Let’s pretend like we are little, and I have the power to turn invisible. But only sometimes, since other times my power is, I control the weather. Or maybe, I shoot fireworks from my fingers. Or maybe my power is, I’m so awesome that nothing corrupts me. But don’t worry, whatever
Rulers/Rebels
I have lived under many dystopian regimes. Rulers come, and rulers topple, children die in some sad squabble, rockets fly
orbital HEART
Imagine if my insides held a solar system. Here is my stomach, hot and glowing blue, where all the energy radiates from, out through the rest of me. Here is my mind, made of many moons, always admiring the beauty of my pieces. My fingers reach like the distant dwarf planets, cold to touch, andContinue reading “orbital HEART”
Jordyn Saelor 