Momentarily Lost for a Lifetime

By Roxie


This life of mine is related

Through knick-knack and song

Titles on the spines; cast in varying print and lined in descending order

Ceramic animals caught in posed accents on a shelf

These are things; but they are beacons

Pulsing through the midst; calling my wandering self

I need these seemingly benign things

For some days, this world can be distant and unfamiliar

Some days, I am lost

I wake from the vastness of my mind and don’t know which way to turn

The comforts of creatures are familial like amber faded photos

True through the definition of stories and distant as the deceased

My muscle memory suggests routine yet I sit still

Unable to confidently decipher complacency from security

A swath of pleasure in the paralysis; I purposefully gage the weight before entering

I know this life; it is a good life

But I cannot be sure that it is mine

Perpetual skepticism

A necessary, voluntary amnesia

I need this; the sensation of definition; the eagerness of a blank page

Awaiting my mark; a singular charcoal line to ignite the branches of being

I lose myself because I need to know

I need to clear a path to recognition

I wander my mind shedding the world like the veils of Salome

Un-tethered, lost and free

When I wake. Blank.

I listen. I feel. Then I look.

I hear light notes and sprinkling water; my seed sings in her morning shower

I smile to myself; I made that and my pride is overwhelming

My eyes focus; the blinds cascade lines of sunshine

Underscoring the menagerie of memories adorning my walls and room

Posters, drawings, yesterday’s clothes, post-it notes and laundry needing a home

This is my life

I went to that show; I wore that shirt; I framed that art and tasked myself in writing

I recognize myself and I breath a new day

A knick-knack and a song; A curated reflection of me

I have surrounded myself with myself for I am my own best navigator

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Roxie

ponders from a tenured state of flux and writes as compulsion; a deeply satisfying and necessary exorcism of random and floating free- form perspectives. She has stationed herself in Lawrence, Kansas as a mother, partner, friend, mentor and novelty-seeker with a passion for authentic conversations over handmade food, high-intensity physical activity resulting in equally high levels of sweet-sweet sweat, and creatively conjuring her next inspiration.

The Choice To Be Single

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Kiersten Cash

is an independent, charismatic, and outgoing woman who has had a passion for writing since childhood. She strives to be a positive vibe and inspirational voice to anyone who crosses her path. It makes her happy to see those around her continuously blossom and grow into their happy places.

She’s an insurance professional by day and lifestyle and fitness enthusiast by night. She is a Certified Spinning Instructor and inspires anyone who struggles with their journey to never give up. This was not easy but if she can do it, so can anyone else. 

Like the time for wanting, Ohio

Like the time for wanting, Ohio

 

Sometimes I am lying across my couch in Kansas

texting you: I want to do the things we used to do

like the time I come home and meet you in a hotel

after your sister’s wedding

where you say you miss me, how I never stay

in Ohio long enough and ask why

I stopped eating at Waffle House with you.

 

Mostly I say I wanted a different body

and mostly you say you’ll always want me

like even when you’re married, you’ll still fuck with me—

like the time you spend a week with me in Kansas

watching Star Trek and episodes of Cosmos

my body mostly in the smoke in your hands,

though you have a woman in Ohio you tell all ten years

we’ve been just friends, or too close for her to know the difference—

 

I like never having to birth your children

or really put up with you,

though I do want to ask

why you want me so much

but not at all

why you want me so much

 

or I want to ask why is your body

the body I always find in the City…

 

or nevermind the bullshit

this poem, or the answers

I am not a good woman

I still want you to do

what you used to do to me

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Simone Savannah

Simone Savannah is the author of Like Kansas (Big Lucks 2018). She is a 2017 finalist for the Rita Dove Award in Poetry. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Ocean State Review, Big Lucks, GlitterMob, The Fem, Powder Keg, The Continental Review, and The Pierian. She holds a Phd in Creative Writing from the University of Kansas. She was born and raised in Columbus, Ohio.

Longing.

I linger in syllables 

The way she holds my name 

In her mouth 

Round 

and 

Lovelier than its ever 

sounded before 

I am 

Captivated by pauses 

Like 

warm breath on skin 

Wriggle to find the edge of it

to ride

Bite knuckles

To catch my tongue

Seeking reprieve from the spell

But just deeper.

Merciless 

Still.