“A Match Can Become a Witch If a Child Makes It So” by Jay Sheets

“A Match Can Become a Witch If a Child Makes It So” by Jay Sheets

A Match Can Become a Witch If a Child Makes It So

 

She pilfers a patch of cornflowers. 
She carries a storm in her mother’s eye. 

      She is the thing that moves through trees, 
      in shock of the seed pointing downward. 

She takes a bloodstone from her pocket, 
skips it across a sleeping lake. 

Across the lake, fireweed rings a burning trunk— 
a transient grove of electric story. 

      The fire fell from the claw of the bird with many masks. 
      On a ritual mask, the mouth can be omitted.

A fish belongs to the lake, 
a fish her father was never able to eat. 

The fish’s gaze hangs in the air like a paper banner— 

      Did you know you can harness the energy of a cloud 
      if you pluck the eyes from the fingers of the nun 
      whose face is a window? 

Breton saw a man cut in two by the window. 
The man was a fish seeking thunder in piles of sticks. 

      He learned to count the sticks … 

and pomegranates, fruit’s frequent potential: 
the space within seeds is measured by need. 

      They sail through the strings of a harp, our apparitions. 

She jumps into an eclipse off a cliff that becomes an arm. 
See, she’s died twice with seeds in her teeth-teeth-teeth.





Jay Sheets is a poet, writer, and researcher. His debut book, The Hour Wasp, was released by April Gloaming Publishing in 2017. Sheets’ poems and writing have appeared in numerous journals and magazines. He received a BFA in Creative Writing from Goddard College in Vermont and currently lives in Plymouth, Massachusetts.

Category : Issue Seven December 2017 Tags :

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