by Elise Rothenhoefer
Only the Forest Says Our Names
When I hear the
rustling leaves I
momentarily lapse
into a reverie. Waiting for
my
father I
didn’t leave my body
or feel
my blood reverse
course. The
sand records my every
hesitation. I couldn’t find
silence in my
mind. Coming down
the slide I know
I’ll enter the
worlds again,
I’ll be submerged again.
I sang in the
backseat as if it were an
empty room. my
body
is a flume,
filled with wishes I cannot
begin to grant. Each
corner is pregnant
with new depths of
blindness. My eyes
say, why are the lights out
again? My eyes say, why are
we moving again? As the
neighbors watched our house
burn I stood like a statue,
breathing in the soot. We pick
berries from branches until
it looks like
we’ve gnawed our
tongues.
Eaten from
the inside out, I try to
charm the humming
night. It burrows
beneath
my skin,
curling like the spawn
of eternity.
J.L Moultrie is a native Detroiter, poet and fiction writer who communicates his art through the written word. He fell in love with literature after encountering Fyodor Dostoyevsky, James Baldwin, Rainer Maria Rilke and many others. He considers himself a literary abstract artist of modernity.
Elise Rothenhoefer is a visual artist, animal lover, and justice advocate. She manages a graphic design business, Magic Bean Designs. Elise lives in the wilds of Southern Florida with her husband, 3 children, 4 cats, 2 dogs, and 3 hermit crabs.