Our section editors chose some of their favorite published submissions from past issues to feature on our blog. This piece is from Issue 40, selected by Maddy Chriest, our current Poetry Editor.
Do you feel that tugging?
Of something pulling your body’s bag towards the ground
So your essence has a better chance of shooting out along the stars?
Like both a smokeshow and a smoke signal all at once,
Essentially, that twist in your gut of something, not someone,
Wanting you to believe in that unspeakable it?
Not in magic, not in open doors, not even in yourself
But in the more-ness that keeps your spirit
In a bag another day, rather than floating
In hallways or bedrooms,
I can only explain this feeling in sound
In color, in taste, or in this liminal space where we now stand
It sounds like silence in a maximum capacity theater,
It looks at you like a stain you no longer care to remove,
It tastes like the perfect amount of salt and kindness,
It is this space between places that begs you
Forward, that holds you down so you can move
Ultimately, it is this it we do not dare name
Just to save us from the fear of yet one more thing escaping our grasp
After we call it to stay.
It is last minute anythings
It is reusing birthday candles
It is growing out rather than up,
Ultimately, it is waiting and waiting and waiting only to be struck
With a moment that wraps all this timing around you and whispers,
You were waiting for this.