writing – Page 22 – Jordyn Saelor

6- up again

(slight trigger warning for this poem: short descriptions of death and carnage) *** The green dragon almost didn’t want to go back home, she wanted to fly past the desert I’d never crossed and find a sea and eat the

5- down with

how long do you think it took me to leave? Not just leave The City, but leave the icy sun, stone mesa and copper domes where people and rats lived? The kid who

Rails

Rails, Rails, Off the Rails, hear her wails–Rails, Rails, she must fail, fall to

4- kid

The kid had a name. Most kids in The City didn’t. The City discouraged naming people, said names distracted them from their jobs in the factories, in the farms, in the offices. Only the patrollers got names: if you chose to join (technically, everyone who joined chose

Pocket of Rage

Sorry, sorry, my bad, I don’t have the words for why. Make a mistake break a cake freak out and shout end the tear duct drought stab Gacks and slay racks, I’m so angry I could just cry the whole time.

3- born

I emerged from the school in a thunderstorm, surrounded by strangers banging pots and tins and wearing crinkly aluminum clothing. Of course the lightning struck them.

Witch names/from that age

Upon my graduation from the demonic witch school in my hundred and thirty-second year, I chose the name Kook, Witch Kook, and didn’t care how silly it sounded. At least it wasn’t Isabel. Witch Isabel sounds like a question my second grade teacher would ask, “Which Isabel does this

2- from this feeling

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.

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

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”