Web Exclusive
'Lavender Desire'
Angela Casey
Welcome to our Web Exclusive section. Each month we will be bringing to you poetry, flash fiction, columns and more! With that, we welcome you to our November exclusives!
Lost in Translation
Anthea Snow Mathews
Colgeninic calsium deposits
cracked tooth
verogated with
nerve fiber filliments and
decadent decay
cellular structures
unguarded
as prisons do not
exsist within your bones
cells are fragile things
easily punctured
perforated
relying on the
microscoptic for safety
until damage in minuature war
but bones
bones are different
if you break a bone
it bleeds
slick red icor
flooding undersea
neurosis dreams
of fire
if you break a bone
it bleeds
not because it is fragile
but because it holds space
to shelter cells,
whose walls restrict ancestors
incoded in filament thread
Our bodies have always known
how to code
Jacked into
some ancestral dream
of enternities spread like fabric
over a table set in mourning
epigenetic threads tie and bind
suspending time like a chandelier
not knowing how stones are
made under pressure and heat
how entropy is constant
how water erodes a canyon
carvining pathways into eternity
how bones are stones that
bleed when broken
and our bodies have
always known to code
but we couldn't read it
only translate the bits
recognizable
balancing humors through
avoiding horrors
the body remembers
even when the brain forgets
The bones keep record
in flowing rivers
cause'
there are no prisons
in your bones
just births and funerals
growth incoded
your body builds its foundation
in stone
under pressure, heat,
rivers running route
sheltering nerve wire
blood,
Ancestors
living in the alcoves you carve for them
bones bleed when the break
but carry the weight of history
decay of entropy
all written in our ancestors' script
We're still learning
what's lost in translation
Follow Anthea
Nameless Silhouette
Icarus
In the shadows of eternal slumber,
Your flesh resides with no return.
Invisible to my mortal eyes,
But burned into the very marrow of my existence.
The earth whispers your name in mournful reverence,
Its worms with glutinous bellies become un-invited guests,
Only to dine on your silent flesh,
Of which can no longer plea for help.
You’ve become the eternal wander,
For your death has no justice in the lands of the living,
For it is us the forsaken that caries the chains of burden that comes with your absences,
A choice not ours to make.
A harrowing ordeal we must all face,
Praying the tempest of grief doesn’t consume us utterly,
Hoping that it never leaves despairs in our wake.