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Elizabeth Carsyn Feb 2019
Bumblebees swarm under
The orange rind, bedside
Lamp flits, claws clench
A steering wheel, speeding.
Almost there, almost home,
You’re so close to finally
Understanding, almost.
Elizabeth Carsyn Oct 2018
Burning crown of golden glory, crusade
Cascade down my corpse like water, toppling
Wobbling pillar legs, eroding away

Cliché shoulder chips. Scorch scarf this thin skin
Therein a conversion of faith. Baptized
Eyes, lashless from rapid oxidation,

Imagination draught, greyscale landscapes,
Escape the reaction zone, relapse in
Collapsed dead space. Swallow the prophet whole.

Cajole the gut advice, heed it to heart.
Hot bleached skin, remnant of fever, frail ash
Dashed in the heavy summer breeze, tumble

Crumble under fingers, over myself.
Sulfur-lined lips ignite epiphanies,
Key-locked doors welded shut now ashy piles.

Smile of a statue spilt on veneer
Near the window. Husked corpse of cheap incense,
Scents of lavender, meekly melt away.

Ashtray of a grave, taste the bitter burn
Return again to bury my mortal.
Laurel on the pyre, you sing the hymn,

Swim within thin chapters of a dead flame,
Claim the blame of scorch scars and disappear.
Hear the fire eat. Smell its heat. Consume

Perfume of a personal breed, discard
Charred temple walls. This body, like incense,
Thence an ashen husk, molder from my touch.
Elizabeth Carsyn Mar 2018
I haven’t moved since the first time you kissed me.
Your lips drip laughter onto my chapstick,
filling the space between my teeth,
moving over my esophagus, slowly —
burning beneath my ribs.
This sweet warm wax, honey in my veins,
bubbling, hardening in my lungs —
squeezing the slightest sound of surprise, surrender,
from my diaphragm and I give myself,
relaxing in your arms,
to this feeling in my molten stomach.
My skin stiffens, my eyes glaze, my lips frozen
somewhere between a smile and a pucker.
Stuck in this split second, gazing at you,
encased in amber.
Elizabeth Carsyn Mar 2018
Blue as sapphire
groaning, shaking,
rumbling like thunder
burning my thigh tops
through the blanket.
The screen is dull,
flickering, buffering —

force shut down
the sound of Windows
reopening, singing —

log in again, eight taps
on the sticky keyboard,
reopen the YouTube tab
begin another vine compilation.
The screen is dull,
flickering, buffering —

force shut down
the sound of Windows
reopening, singing —

log in again,
sadistic taps on the keyboard,
open Dragon Age,
watch the title screen
flicker, buffer, freeze —

force shut down
the sound of Windows,
loud, lodging in my head —

log in again, first four furious,
the following: apologetic,
reopen Dragon Age,
slay an ogre,
freeze, sword raised
prepared for the final blow —

force shut down
Windows singing,
its melody, four beats long,
like a taunt or a tease —
log in, frantic eight taps, enter,
open Dragon Age.
I didn’t get the chance to save.
Elizabeth Carsyn Feb 2018
Early morning,
Jupiter and Venus
meet face to face,
frozen, a second before
collision. The sky glows
a burnt orange, an echo
of the collision that
could have been.

Closer than the
band of my ring,
lustrous like the
diamond on it, still,
they long to close the
365 million miles.

Jupiter and Venus
lay next to each other
on a Queen. Jupiter
slumbers, rumbles
quietly next to Venus
while she counts the
fluttering eyelashes.

Early morning,
Venus and Jupiter
are 17 arc minutes away,
seems like an arm’s reach,
but he is so far. Lost
in a dream, frantically
fastened to her waist,
she counts his heartbeats.

Floating beneath sown lights,
between the sounds of
the sleeping city and
the hum of the heater.
She gazes upwards,
finding faux constellations.

Venus wakes Jupiter
pressing her lips to
the soft skin of his face,
dawn light pours red
through the blinds
as Jupiter and Venus collide,
for what feels like the first time
all over again.
Elizabeth Carsyn Feb 2018
It is heroic to attempt to stop time
To pick a moment from a tree
Like a ripe red apple, sweet and shiny.
It is heroic to bite into a moment
To break the seconds with soft yellowing teeth
Taste the bitter, brown, grainy bruises.
It is heroic to keep eating away the seconds
To consume the glances, grazes, gazes
And transform it into something nourishing.
Elizabeth Carsyn Feb 2017
She is perched on the pier
a lonely mourning dove
rather than a stalking hawk.

Legs pouring over the red cedar //
toes playfully kissing the mist
of lulling lake waves against the dock.

She waits over the fish staring
at the drowning worm her father
pierced with the rusted hook.

Three fish // silver like new quarters
coming towards her //
towards this earth thing in water.

Every time they begin to kiss //
nibble // the worm // she tugs the
line and the creatures scatter.

She intends to catch one each time //
she flicks her wrist too soon each time
and each time she can’t catch a fish //

she doesn’t seem to mind.
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