Three Poems–Kailey Alyssa

1

Last Bite to Eat

A deer lies dead with a branch of alder in mouth
and she wakes after the same dream about the same baby
she keeps dropping from her same arms.

Characterized by breaking rocks into smaller rocks,
she sits next to lake       crushed beer can near brown legs
waits for storm to start or pass.

He shows with flowers, divides mosaic into steep canyon
and steel hurt;            gets her body from cliff into water
with an easy smile, a warm hand on lower back.

 

 

Air Mass

Arrive home to shower on,
steam rising like prayer-hummed-valley.
She enters as slope against him, wetness
instead of moment caught by glare of ritual.
They search for a town where people wear horses as shoes,
where light cracks under pressure of gray and isn’t afraid.
New to feelings that break before the bow,
they begin by producing vibrations artificially.

 

 

Chorus Of

They lie in bed like rolling  weather  in  October   this
back and forth they cannot see their blankets  as  the
heap  at  foot  of  bed;    warm   only   where  skin    is
touching skin is touching swell hip the curve of thigh
his  body  leaning  light into her. To bother arranging,
to savor the quiet of his tongue, to vex lips like  blood
murmuring  beneath  the  surface  as  way of arriving
home.  Their bodies fall into  familiar  pattern  follow
movement  like  cobweb  like hand reaching like final
resting place near left breast.   She  slides  head lower
just  under  chin  and    he   wraps  her  like  sediment
carried down ridge or lisp of smoke.

 

 

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Kailey Alyssa grew up in Las Vegas and now resides in Longmont, Colorado. She is a graduate of the MFA program at the University of Colorado Boulder as well as the former Poetry Editor of Timber Journal. She likes camping, craft beer, and coffee. Her work has appeared in Dreginald, Heavy Feather Review, Hobart Journal, Juked, Pacifica Literary Review and Vanilla Sexmag.

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