Poems by Amy Moretsele

Sip down from the jagged side

Watching the seconds tick by waiting

for a breath, a break

these unhinged feelings have stalked me all day

in the draining shadows as the sun rose

and the leaking ones as it sets

They stretch

across the heaving distance of this old house’s

floors, dancing on worn baseboards

and I tap my fingers 

Morning Breath 

Yesterday I found myself looking for a reason to bleed, because I can't possibly be whole in a broken world in this place that tells me I am missing parts - xxxxxxxxxxxxxxI see them around from time to xxxxxxxxxxxxxxtime – there xxxxxxxxxxxxxxlies my prestige pinky on the laundry chair, xxxxxxxxxxxxxxmy loveliness leg walks xxxxxxxxxxxxxxthrough me en route to the bathroom, staring xxxxxxxxxxxxxxback at me atop my cereal is my affluence ankle xxxxxxxxxxxxxxand I have nightmarish thoughts of them handed the possessions xxxxxxxxxxxxxxI don't possess xxxxxxxxxxxxxxin any form but the yearning of my chest So I curled up, belly in head as if by dipping underwater I could silence them, and watch the bubbles float up from my breath instead, appraising each one for their simple beauty

Amy Moretsele is a daydreamer who writes for that sensation of easy-breathing following word vomit. Her work has appeared in The Squawkback, Fly on the Wall Press, Dust Poetry Magazine and Re-Side Zine. You can find her on Twitter @amymoretsele.