5 Poems
Caroline Rayner
crashed on the floor
i just sink
into coffee
& delirium
unique to surfing the internet
in a southern city––
never a social creature,
like the night i skipped the show
& peeled clementines
in my room.
i grew up
& brought little to the table
except behavior.
the ridge blooms
in virgo
& i weave gloom
like grass
between the ribs.
i scatter stitches,
my emotions,
ceaselessly.
i could not reconcile
community & land,
i could not take shape,
holding
when i destroyed
myself,
the day
as the only syllable
i could believe.
when the river
celebrated
the solstice,
i rinsed off
& grew branches
where i still hurt.
back home
my friend
splits
an avocado
& we silently share
& i feel alive
spirit meets the skin
cusp of winter
& dead lotus rising––
i drag my twin bed halfway
downhill,
pause
for the mountain witch,
& screech.
home is
hollowed out,
a tiny planet
more catlike
than river,
& cut out
from the sky.
i took off my dress
because the world grew
claws
while i was at school.
thin trapeze &
short sleeves
pinned to an apple tree
grown wild
in warm weather.
the effluvia––
birth, soil,
& marzipan.
it feels nice
it seems fair.
i squeeze out my hair
all over the grass
like red wine
deeply
mapping
the blue ridge.
i chase fauna
from my ribcage
so light shines straight through me.
how long until i die
& return as a cicada?
these pecan shell wings
dig like teeth
& i can’t afford
another good soaking rain
or spiritual collapse,
because finally i quit trying
to eat myself
bad bitches only
each morning
i crack my phone screen––
shake loose
the shards &
watch them snowflake
all over my backyard.
glass grows back
& perhaps
this is proof of reincarnation.
my past selves
cluster inside the moon,
talking shit about my recent selves.
i know this is true
because when i ask the moon
for instructions
regarding forgiveness
i receive a sea urchin,
& it stings me.
every night
i pray to my main queen
that the demons lose
all their teeth––
becoming less like cacti
& more like honey.
at night i cup my hands
full of orange juice
to protect
against curses
& haters.
nicki minaj taught me
how to be a nightmare
& a pink star,
i love my sisters
so what else do you
want from me
craving
take your fresh flowers
home because i want
to wear black dresses
loose enough
& the vibe is
mary-kate olsen
& i mean
have you
seen pictures?
our galaxy
can’t quit
making enemies
& i feel terrified
just listening
to rihanna
throwing shade
& becoming
an angel
without leaving
my pink room.
haters, up late
watching tv
& outside i break
when i plant
trees & pretend
to crash
like the ocean
still swollen
in a little ball
& telling my friend
how i woke up
scraped out
& how i smoked
fear of the future
down to the glitter.
she pours wine––
reflection of the sky
blushing early
like i do
when i bend
backwards
in a rainbow.
both my wrists
disappear
& i get my way,
humid forever,
ideal for fucking
or running up
the mountain.
ginger goes bad
& still i give
everything i can
& still i defend
my moon
& still i talk
forever
& i feel bad
standing outside
the hardcore show,
shaking
wildwood
i was developing film in the river
as the big world
deepened,
heliotrope
& braided
like the myth––
local spirits
among butterflies,
turning men
into trees.
still he told me
this was a dream
& i could not
tear
the membrane.
i asked,
what is enlightenment
without phone service
& he said karma
sings in the choir
& he loves the music,
he loves
the looping.
meanwhile
our piano flooded
because our bedroom flooded.
i tried baking
until stone fruit season
made me
inconsolable.
i bought succulents
like i knew
what the kitchen
needed.
green tea brews
& brews
because i let it.
i hate the earth
Caroline Rayner is a poet from Virginia who currently lives in Western Massachusetts. She is an MFA candidate at UMass-Amherst as well as assistant poetry editor for Cosmonauts Avenue. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Alien She, H_NGM_N, Witch Craft, Shabby Doll House, and elsewhere. Follow her on Twitter & Tumblr.