Hair like marshes of beanie baby fur,
pruned and worn down by infant gums.
Teeth the colour of mildew in the shower
of a derelict shack in the bayou.
were a return to childhood.
expanding dead zones.
Your voice is a bald eagle’s cry
softening in darkness
to a bassoon’s lament for a nest
filling a shady grotto,
a poor substitute.
Puffer fish lips
dissect my hurt with no quarter
until “you’re smarter than you look”
passes off as a quirky compliment.
There’s a photo of us
inside the pharynx of a whale.
In my hadal zone I knew:
we were living in a carcass,
in that jaw about to snap.
Interference- the combination of two or more electromagnetic waveforms to form a resultant wave in which the displacement is either reinforced or cancelled.
Dead zones- low-oxygen, or hypoxic, areas in the world's oceans and lakes.
Apple (Op-Ed from an exile in Silicon Valley)
You took a second bite of the apple
and lost your humanity,
lost the beasts of the earth and sky,
lost the moon, the stars and the water.
lost our ancient language
and its poetry.
Instead you compile new languages.
Those of us who speak the old tongue,
taking down your orders,
try to speak to you,
the new humans,
in this, the new Babylon.
Your hunting oscillation,
punctuated anxiety and grief,
laughter coming to a full stop
at the end of each sentence.
The greyed armpits
of your rosy coat
an indistinct receiver
for the relentless revolution of
Unable to bring myself to
I was a nodding puppet
on the dashboard
of our train, clunking
towards the empty junction.
Beware of Ducks
Snails trailing evanescent glitter
just by virtue of going places,
reflecting the light that follows everywhere,
sinuously feeling their way around
with immense gentleness.
Having the fortitude
to carry the weight of a home
and the bravery to emerge from it
with all their fragility.
It’s dangerous to be a snail,
yet they cannot hurry.
Instead, they slowly highlight
softening the ground so others may
How hard the world must feel
to the underbelly,
how rough when poked
with soft tentacles,
reaching out to feel,
what’s out there.
D'or Seifer contributes to poetry gatherings, such as Filí an Tí Bháin, and On the Nail. She co-runs the online poetry series Lime Square Poets. Her work has recently appeared in Skylight 47,The Galway Advertiser's Vox Galvia page, and Pendemic.
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