Atrocity Exhibition
  • home
  • writing
  • art
  • about
    • submit
    • authors
    • artists
  • features

2 poems by Everett Warner

11/9/2015

0 Comments

 

Your name here

When dragonflies un-
ravel all the words
I never spoke
and I come undone,
 
            the scroll will carpet the floor of my childhood
            forest. At night, letters will step out of the cellulose,
            white little haunts eager to walk in the moonlight.
 
This is where we come from:
Ink.
This is my wish:
Speak.
Forget my words

            were all about you. The blank scroll
            will reroll, burst into dragonflies,
            and forget its beginnings as the tongue
            that doesn’t speak. Countless wings
            will blink like eyelashes. There is
            no word for this.




Stillborn
 
How deep is this ocean
     can you sleep in it
 
How deep is the small of your back
     can it fit an ocean
 
How far does a heartbeat swim
     before it drowns
 
How much ocean does it take 
     to heal this 8 ounces of you
 
This much ocean I say
     opening my mouth
for you to spit our second
     and third sorrows into
 
I am sorry 
 
     This ocean is amniotic
     This sleep is an animal padding through water
 
I am sorry
 
     The small of your back is clay 
 
I am sorry 
 
     I can't mold you from you



​

Picture
Everett Warner spends his time trying to be a wolf. His words are at or are forthcoming at Rust + Moth, Axolotl, Chicago Literati, and other places. He is the Fiction Editor for Noble/Gas Qrtly. He thinks everything should be blue, and can be found on Twitter @danielwolfer.

0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    Archives

    July 2016
    May 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    November 2015
    October 2015

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.
  • home
  • writing
  • art
  • about
    • submit
    • authors
    • artists
  • features