a transformation—Calia Jane Mayfield

the sun sets on dead plants hanging in the carport / climbing into windows and through trees my body feels ghostly / somedays i can still feel the boards under my bare feet where i ran toward the water / my teeth feel too sharp for my mouth and the shuttering won’t stop / i convince myself the devil doesn’t speak through ceiling tiles / white curtains frame open window / moonless and grey water perfect for dying in your hands  / you can’t see my smile you can’t find my hands / my breathing doesn’t stop / the water looks aflame as a star falls / lovers dying in the dark in town with no name / the sun never reaches the deep water where we lie

Calia Jane Mayfield (she/her) is a Black poet from Georgia that loves chaos and is always looking for new music. You can find more of her writing in Wrongdoing Mag, Not Deer Mag and Ample Remains. You can find her on twitter @yetiwaterbottle.

photo by Berend de Kort (via pexels)