Lunar

by Saquina Karla C. Guiam

Lunar

Mother says it’s just a phase

and I wished I had replied with

does that make me a moon?

 

I wouldn’t mind being as such;

we have been moons for generations,

most of the time we are swallowed up

by that great serpent named Expectation.

 

Some of us survive:

a beacon amidst the sea

of rules and regulations,

shedding that insidious tar off our shining skins.

 

This is just a phase, says the echo

of a slowly burning construct.

I reply I will wax and wane until I rise,

nestled in the arms of a sky that wants me.

Lux

by Saquina Karla C. Guiam

Lux

Maybe we should stop         telling stories     of how the light heals

and start talking        how much it hurts    when you’re outside:     

                          every drop     of sunbeam     sinking

into

          your

                    skin

                               and

                                        gutting     [you]

                                                     from

                                                     the

                                                     (inside).

Saquina Karla C. Guiam is a Best of the Net-nominated poet. On occasion, she writes prose. Her work has appeared on Glass: A Journal of Poetry, The Maine Review, Outlook Springs, The Shade Journal, Geoliterary, and others. She is the Roots nonfiction editor at Rambutan Literary and an editor for Umbel & Panicle. Her first micro-chapbook, Skysea, was part of Ghost City Press' 2017 Summer Chapbook Series.

Saquina Karla C. Guiam

  • Black Instagram Icon

©2020 by Wanda Deglane. Proudly created with Wix.com

This site was designed with the
.com
website builder. Create your website today.
Start Now