Basia Gruszewski

Am I meant to let you,

Can I sit still when fire burns beneath me.

And what if I'm strapped down,

You choose to fly,

Free from the ashes,

And I've been left to melt.

You want to leave me,

Maybe I should just let you,

But what they mean is,

Deep stares that unsettle consumers the way that what is unlucky for you is lucky for me.

She was built beneath ladders and raised by licorice cats who taught her to keep thirteen close and her enemies closer.

Knotted together, we tumble across green pastures, screaming and wailing, piercing serpents eyes light up rooms.

Sparks cause fires to rage fierce enough to engulf oceans and send firefighters packing suitcases to beaches in Italy.

My win is your loss, your poker face cannot save you now, pack up and pack in. Send it home untill tomorrow.

Decays screeching wood,

I hold on for dear life.

Break my limbs again,

Push me over the edge,

Let me fall to my death.

Salt heals wounds,

Or burns like acid on tongues,

Hesitation leaves me in the dark.

I am a marble pillar,

Held by untamable oceans,

My willfull strength unwaivers.

So come wild storm and thunder,

Call brutes and bring knives,

This fight you cannot win.

I am a pillar.

The First Mourning of Spring.

Somehow, I thought getting drunk would be a cure-all bandaid that travels time and mends wounds like the patches on my overalls.

I believed the numbness of lips would loosen my inability to open like the sky does each morning for the sun.

And my fingers would cradle keys the way I cradled you.

But like rock and ruin,

I bring it down.

I empty out.

Fruit Bat Day bends for nights fête, Though scornful, I need you.

Wind chills withered spines, Though frightened, I want to.

Dark howls through foxtails, Though desperate, I linger.

Vexing brews blindly, Though quenched, I simmer.

Rest midnight fury, Though trembling, I ask you.

Bats blind and cautious, He silently circles.

I beg for mercy, Denial is bitter.

Ripe figs in season, His sweet tooth disgruntled.

Fang sucks pure nectar, Defiance tastes holy.

Grave forest of night, I endlessly suffer.