A Selection of Poems...

By Mattea Gernentz

Aubade

Flicker awake, o my soul,
like the soul’s starting,

like fawn over grass,
like salmon upstream flings.
Flicker now if evermore;
depart from me not.
Give me a hope I can
sink my teeth into.

Myth, Dissolved

I am the language of an open wound, the searing hurt,

and—heaven knows—to love is to cauterize, quickly,

the old brag of my heart.

You used to tell me how Hannibal’s elephants

could travel for days through craggy peaks,

as the salt piled up on your plate,

eyes wide behind horn-rimmed glasses.

All these stories yet I am only I,

legs bruised and riddled with red,

thrashing through the wilderness

of becoming, betrothed to treacherous Fate.

Spurned by the cries of my humiliators,

I am no Orpheus but a thimblewoman from Thebes,

but Penelope weaving their undoing,

but Ariadne learning the maze I’ve been giv’n.

Adrift

a pale Chicago sky

suspended, like matcha.

it does not dissolve, she said,

does not mix well; it cannot

meet water too hot, lest it scorch,

cannot be swirled circular, only whisked.

panacea, a balm for your body,

but only in this singular fashion.

only this. here you are, only this.

the gaping mouth of July

and the gradient lying between

morning and evening, and we are

caught between, parabolic motion,

cat’s cradle, Newton falling quickly

as one enters slumber. forgetfulness.

decisions must be made, have been made

idle are the hours that lead to sudden

impetus. lost in noise, clarity rears

its sanguine head. and we are adrift again.

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