by the river
down by the river, we deprive
ourselves of our bodies. strip down to the bones
dampened by autumn’s longing breaths, the glow
of summer’s caresses ebbing away.
down by the river, we grieve
burdensome crystals plummeting
from our eyes — the tears which
we are still afraid to shed.
down by the river, we
lower our heads, rinsing our eyelashes
in the water, as we drink —
giving in to the lust to
down by the river, we hold
hands. defeated promises. oh, to
float away. to let our dreams take us,
their songs tender, lulling us into a boundless
down by the river, i whisper my
i should have come alone.
a memory/in the chamber
the flare of daylight has long set behind the veils –
twilit gusts now rasp against the precise patterns.
i kneel on the floor, a centrepiece
in a sterile chamber, pastel halogen reflecting
against walls of glass. i should await
the moon, for the night-tide oeuvre, a perfect
i reach into the hollows of my mind,
recovering an image of what once was –
mahogany locks against smooth cheeks,
fingers intertwining with those of monsters, nails
bitten to the core
of the apple spit into embers of remorse,
making them burn,
as i turn
it over –
‘i long for you.’
oh, how i long for you.
Grace Alice Evans (she/her) is a LGBTQ+, mixed-heritage poet, writer, sound/visual artist and survivor, whose work explores living with mental illness, trauma, recovery, and the dichotomy between the inner and outer worlds. Grace’s social media handle is @gracealiceevans.
photo by Marc Wieland (via unsplash)