poetry by Samuel J Fox
I wanted to disappear:
what I received instead was the horizon
violet as death.
Everything was rigid with meaning
before it wasn’t. A fog
scraping its belly across my forehead.
The house I thought was home
turned into a mortuary & I realized
I was dressing the dead
calling it family. Do not mistake me
for a fool: I know my limits.
I can only be what I believe I am.
I just didn’t know how a mother
can make her son feel
like the sequins on a gaudy dress.
I just didn’t know how the silence
a father keeps in his mouth
can be cleaned like a gun.
In slow cadence...
poetry by Samuel lJ Fox
In slow cadence compared to the world,
I wander below a field of stars
glimmering in their wide arrangement.
It is always here, beneath the whole of things,
I find Orion none the wiser.
It is always here, thinking of you
I realize there are parts of myself people
will always take before asking;
perhaps, because I don’t reproach love
for being moneyless, sanctified.
Some nights, I watch Mars red flare
and believe in science fiction.
Some nights, Jupiter and his mandarin storms,
may pull on me into my temper.
Most nights however, I remind myself
nothing truly manifests as important.
There is no dire need for work:
the corporations make that a necessity.
There is no grievous hankering for more:
consumerism is a pulsing tooth
in the mouth of a hungry country.
Nothing truly matters, but that does not
abscond the fact that it isn’t beautiful.
Vanity of vanities, this thing beauty.
Tonight, a Luna moth lands on my knee,
and I dare not move. I dare not scare it.
It only lives for two weeks, and yet
for its fraction of a moment it is here
landed on my body, resting.
There are pieces the world can’t take
from us, not even if we dare it.
I wish you were here to see me,
statuesque and penitent
of all I was not prepared to give
and as I lift myself onto two feet
watch it, touched by an apparition,
as it flutters away searching for light:
this is what it means to be mortal.