NEW! Poem by Tracy Truels

Tracy Truels 

BEDROOMS, GRASS, AND BLACK WATER

I cannot blame the starfish for they are small and hold on to things.

I woke up next to a man not my husband but who still kept me warm.
I once slept in the field like a buried body, so long slips of grass grew between my wrist bones.

When we sleep you sink into the bed like a fish thrown back into water,
so deep I don’t know if I could reach you with my arm.

We must take something unknown to our grave so that the ones we love will follow us.

I cannot blame the places I’ve slept. I held onto our bed until it broke like a dam.
The grass sleeps above our buried bodies, and the stars hold on to my things.