Chimera by Madison Zehmer
Tell me—you know what the gods foresaw—
Crow innards next to a sleeping fawn.
Turning leaves as cold as the Baltic
Scald. Wires caught in crosswinds—
Vultures caught in wires. I am not
Afraid of this labyrinth—only of its
Breath—whispering away bodies
Into grime. The entrance always ajar.
What lies beyond—empty space is
An oxymoron—Hades’ refusal to see
Me—false memory. Not sure if delusions
Unnamed are still delusions. I can
Feel my cells molt. Rinse me of this—
Pare capillaries—peel off what’s dead—
I’ll keep what sleeps—
What wakes up sweating.