gaia in contrast
during the CAT scan // the contrast
burned me
from the inside out
i saw the Greenwitch, her effigy
reflected in the agony
of exploratory medicine
she heard my screams, Gaia, she // me
and beyond
to the shores of Avalon, cross the misty seas
where healing
rears its head against the agony of ages
and claims its place--
waiting for the moment.
as the contrast fades, i know
i have faced a dragon
and lived to tell
her tale
burned me
from the inside out
i saw the Greenwitch, her effigy
reflected in the agony
of exploratory medicine
she heard my screams, Gaia, she // me
and beyond
to the shores of Avalon, cross the misty seas
where healing
rears its head against the agony of ages
and claims its place--
waiting for the moment.
as the contrast fades, i know
i have faced a dragon
and lived to tell
her tale
autumn poem
struck with terror, still buzzing
from the heavy thunder
roiling slowly
beneath the season.
the afternoon sun
catches fire on the window, all
ambered
while time drips
in the name of Dali,
so much red
so much melting away
behind the curtains, behind my eyes
under my fingernails
while time drips i scream and swallow -
autumn wanders on
i want the magnolias ablaze.
this year i -
almost hollow
like my insides
are not.
this year it cracks
like
butcher’s knife
axe to grind
lightning, finally
breaking the bottle.
learns the allegory of the cave in reverse
walks backwards into hell
licks the bones clean
drags you home to your brokenness
and loves you for it.
this autumn names herself
Terror.
from the heavy thunder
roiling slowly
beneath the season.
the afternoon sun
catches fire on the window, all
ambered
while time drips
in the name of Dali,
so much red
so much melting away
behind the curtains, behind my eyes
under my fingernails
while time drips i scream and swallow -
autumn wanders on
i want the magnolias ablaze.
this year i -
almost hollow
like my insides
are not.
this year it cracks
like
butcher’s knife
axe to grind
lightning, finally
breaking the bottle.
learns the allegory of the cave in reverse
walks backwards into hell
licks the bones clean
drags you home to your brokenness
and loves you for it.
this autumn names herself
Terror.
Jess Roses (she/her) is a chronically ill writer and artist. She takes inspiration from her experiences and shares her creativity in hopes of reaching those who feel unseen. Her work focuses on transforming relationships with pain, giving voice to the taboo of suffering, and exploring how these communal experiences relate to systematic power structures and institutions within and without the human psyche. She has been writing for 10 years, and her work has been published in Ghost Girls Zine. Her instagram handle is @jessrosesofficial.