Frankenstein's MonsterIt was something mundane—Frankenstein's Monster by Akichan15
rinsing dinner plates, folding my underwear
into temporarily neat squares, letting the cat out,
that brought you back:
The thick spice of crumbling maple leaves
piled high and burning; cinnamon and nutmeg,
woolwash and lanolin wafting from my hands.
You're wearing a soft pumpkin grin, huddled by me
under the groaning red barn,
under my grandma's knitted afghan,
under the silver dollar moon,
jolting at ghost stories, lantern light licking at your
thin mouth, dark hair dusting the cold tapered hands
that I press to the back of my neck in the October night
and I feel the bones of you there even now;
my personal haunting, my first-love-Frankenstein,
can you guess what you made of me?
What is it worth now?
The dishes needed rinsing,
there was laundry to fold,
the cat was crying to be let out.
What the Water Gives MeWe spend our first nine months inWhat the Water Gives Me by Akichan15
small sacks of transparent, rosy
membranes and indigo-blue veins.
Floating in the fluid darkness,
we breath in time to the beat
of waves rising and breaking
rushing in and out of unseen chambers
of the heart. Existence is a pulsing communion
with God in the ebb and flow of silence
before we wash ashore on the dry banks
of the canal and learn to scream.
My nephew was born small and wrinkled
into latex gloves, with fluid in his lungs.
Brushing my pinky against his petal-fragile
skin, I think of the tides and
the people who return to them with
stones in their pockets, surrendering
to the crashing of salt and heaven
as the first mother fills them
in an inversion of that Egyptian
myth of creation—a small piece of the world
sinking back into Nu's cold embrace
—and something old and fiercely bright
rises up, overflowing into my smile,
hot and sweet. My eyes burn red against
the late November air as the origins of love
wash me clean.
No Two PeopleThe night is strange and I roll in dirt on the lawnNo Two People by Akichan15
over to your side.
I blink and
you are gone.
In that breadth of darkness I remembered a story,
I'd read online about a whale who has been calling
through the velveteen freezing dark for years
with no reply .
I woke up the next morning for a sporadic jog
and it was fall.
I wondered why
it is true
no two people feel the same way at the same time.
The DownswingMy body is wildly slack.The Downswing by Akichan15
My boots leave behind grooves
against the smooth and sable sky.
With every pump of my thighs
my kidneys and lungs float for a weightless moment,
shaken up together into something like a klidney,
and nothing comes close;
Not scaling jagged sea rocks in Maine
Not his nails grazing the dip of my neck
Not ice cream, kissing, alcohol, or
your sea green eyes leaving imprints