Two Poems by Sal Rochelle

 

Orange, Two Alternate

 

there are many ways to be a nucleus of fire.

here is safety in a language

that cannot be translated.

here is sustenance

that is not bioavailable

trying to keep up with them but always

a pigment stain is extracted in fresh sunlight

is a rotten egg

the last one down off the mountain.

 

Solstice

 

As the sun followed its closest circle to the ground

outside the south facing window of the booth,

me and the operator worked from when it started up

over the water in the east to when it disappeared.

She pointed out all the files and codes and her nails were painted with a diamond pattern.

I was starting, she was leaving, and everyone else was working around

the big rock salt mountain.

I remembered the pottery glazes we used in summer classes

they changed colours in the kiln and some of them were textured and crackled.

Shipping containers being hauled down to the water

rolled up and blocked out the sun from the window

and left, and let the low light in and let me watch

the men destroying old UPS trucks.

 

Sal Rochelle grew up on occupied Lenape land, dropped out of two colleges, works in the renewable energy industry, is involved in anti-carceral suicidality support, and shares a home with several snakes.