Title
by Lucía Guzman
I am within the mouth of the moon.
When Death arrives in his chariot of silver,
I will be able to say
that I have been chasing it for millennia.
When does Death end?
I am forgotten by divinity,
I become so close to Death’s gentleness
that I learn to endure the malignity of it,
shifting in clarity and fragility,
it becomes a deeply intimate affair.
the gravity of my heart is torn
from artery to artery
to make room for it.
It is like every dream I’ve ever had,
translucent in the frame,
visceral in the night,
head beneath
waves of moonlight.
It devours the soul,
and remakes my bones
into daffodils.
Death
takes millennia to come,
counting its cards,
playing hands of hearts.
saint-maker, mind-reader,
it takes my violets
but not my heart.
who was I
before it?
a bare pillar of salt,
grief?
It haunts,
saint-maker
will-breaker,
chaos becomes you,
and I become the stars.
When Death arrives in his chariot of silver,
I will be able to say
that I have been chasing it for millennia.
When does Death end?
I am forgotten by divinity,
I become so close to Death’s gentleness
that I learn to endure the malignity of it,
shifting in clarity and fragility,
it becomes a deeply intimate affair.
the gravity of my heart is torn
from artery to artery
to make room for it.
It is like every dream I’ve ever had,
translucent in the frame,
visceral in the night,
head beneath
waves of moonlight.
It devours the soul,
and remakes my bones
into daffodils.
Death
takes millennia to come,
counting its cards,
playing hands of hearts.
saint-maker, mind-reader,
it takes my violets
but not my heart.
who was I
before it?
a bare pillar of salt,
grief?
It haunts,
saint-maker
will-breaker,
chaos becomes you,
and I become the stars.
Lucía Guzman is a student living in Oxford, England. Her work features themes of fascination with the macabre and yearning, and what she writes is often interconnected.