TWO POEMS by JP THORN

burn upon reentry

i loved you the way

a cat loves its litter box

& knocking over bowls

necessarily territorial

towards your well being,

often a projection of my own

unadopted ideas. you’ll replace

them with bamboo stalks

where wind will grow songs;

lullabies for children

& classical parents,

crescendos for the chaotic

good, evil, neutral

three placemats on a table for two,

failing fibonacci sequence

in overcrowded photos,

the things we choose

to never acknowledge

though they’re right there,

framing the corner of the room.

maria mentions

florida is the birthplace

of disaster and calamity

but i was born in arizona,

you in illinois &

together we’re a blizzard,

contrary weather systems

chanced upon midwest meetup

forced together by uprising

heat until we sweltered

in the front seat of my car;

i had never been kissed

so publicly. i’d beg

for infinite february

or at the very least a leap

year, one bonus day

of the honeymoon phase

we tore through, faster than

hounds of love chasing foxes.

i wish loving was easier then,

a section skipped

in the manual of living:

how to show up as an

undåm ag ēd pa c k ag e

having been horse-tacked

& jockeyed never asked

how does it feel?

but fed so quickly

then groomed,

certain purpose

was a tiny needle in the hay

waiting to pierce my tongue;

heatmiser’s roman candle

snuffed to ellipsism


chanceless

within each poem i write a confession:

my grandmother ventured here

a confused child diet consisting of

dandelion stems & dolmades,

tiny precious gem

in the diadem weighing my head

down & around turning on an axis

of conflicting beliefs;

to untrained eyes we are

ornate shiny pawns granite-made,

to the practiced we’re industrial

pieces of that same rock

never polished,

never shaped, never formed.

there is no collaging modernity;

the canvas is thick

layers of paint over written pasts

sometimes imagined, rarely true

or dare i say accurate when

memory is subjective.

silly us, ever

expectant for translations

of history to be unbiased,

ingenuity of railways long passed

though cargo still unfolds,

first-generation immigrants designated

industrial-grade diamonds

too flawed, irregular, off-colored

or small to value as gems

but of vital importance

within metalworking & mining;

utility cannot be denied rights

even as a person, despite

fastidious patriarchal work-arounds

ships waterlogged

until past, present, future

are all manipulated

through a kaleidoscopic lens.


jp thorn a queer, neurodivergent artist raised in & returned to the south after receiving a B.A. in communications from hamline university in the twin cities. you'll usually find them in a peaceful flow state of adhd hyperfocus or ping-ponging between cat parent & hobbyist. advocate for ampersands, de-stigmatization, & radically-open communication, their work is largely inspired by identity, reframing traditionalism, therapeutic processes, unlearning patriarchy, queerness, & global patterns. you can find more of their work here, here, & their personal instagram here

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TWO POEMS by MEGAN WILLIAMS

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A THING by A.J. MAITLAND