I Give in Again
Alexa Doran I Give in Again to the cartoon gingerbread you’ve nicknamed “numbies” the zombie cookies that march in mass gluttony across the screen – what does it mean that you know every word to this scene but wouldn’t know Jesus from a drag queen? At two years old I haven’t taught you to believe in anything. The world stretches – the freshest taffy sweet for tapping and I don’t want to interrupt mid-chew to burst in! on all that softness to bind that briar to you - why separate one miracle from the rest? The same way you refuse to see the moon (it’s sun night or noon) nothing isn’t holy yet in your view. This morning in the church parking lot across the street we chuck rocks at a tree Lean in I say it’s part aim, part fate and you unlock your elbow a sequin gone liquid amidst the bricks and stubble of steeples so that your rock wedges into the wounds between the roots. And I am certain this is prayer. Our bodies bent in the butterfly clasp of Florida’s air, surrounding a pebble, cheering its small journey to anywhere. |
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About the Author: Alexa Doran is poet pursuing her PhD at FSU. Her work has recently been featured or is
forthcoming in Guernica, Glass, Tahoma Literary Review, McNeese Review, FIVE:2:ONE and Conduit, among others. She was the first-place recipient of the Martha's Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing 2018 Parent/Writer Fellowship and has been nominated for 2018 Best of the Net by Posit and Ilanot Review
.
forthcoming in Guernica, Glass, Tahoma Literary Review, McNeese Review, FIVE:2:ONE and Conduit, among others. She was the first-place recipient of the Martha's Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing 2018 Parent/Writer Fellowship and has been nominated for 2018 Best of the Net by Posit and Ilanot Review
.