margo montes de oca
trace fossils
in the intertidal zone, anemones sleep / kelp lies in golden tongues / under black pools / in the intertidal zone / i cling to a rock / the barnacles press into my palms / imprint themselves on me / like disappearing stars / in texas this year drought scorched up a river / they found footprints in its bed that were one hundred million years old / vanished bodies shored up and shining / yesterday i saw a woman hurrying across the street / the wind swept her hair into question marks / she carried a white placard / THE CLOCK IS TICKING / i still don’t know where she was going / i burrow into the crevices / i cluster with the snails / they write important messages on my skin / we are waiting for the water / to sluice away the drying sun / in the intertidal zone / it is always a matter of time
three trees
tomorrow she walks in
and then it’s yesterday again
and this time she doesn’t fall.
tomorrow
she will see the gaps in the
floorboards and then yesterday
she will step aside to leave
the cold mouth of dark
to itself.
are you there? she whispers and
the mouth is open but
does not speak. wind sings
coins out of the sky.
the tomorrow-that-is-yesterday
blankets the walls.
apples sweeten in the hidden
places behind windows.
plain water
after Anne Carson
I want to move in a way that is essential to you
I want you to wake up gasping because
the crashing roar of your desire has riven
three great irremediable cracks in your ceiling
I want to become a plasterer
so that I can be the one to try and fix it
I want you to pour a well of seawater
into the hollow space between my collarbones
& I want you to drink it
in my dreams everything moves &
in my dreams you exist as an
aqueduct of wanting
I rest the tip
of my smallest finger on the place
where you meet the ocean &
then I run it down the length
of my body & become myself
oh I want this to be the end of me, I want you
to sing me to sleep or to the far end of brightness
and sit with me there under the wet hot rain
while the dark body of my river-mind slaps,
fathomless,
light years below
Margo Montes de Oca (she/her) is an enviro-goth who lives in Pōneke and studies English and Ecology. In her spare time she likes to find colourful mushrooms and spend all her money on interesting carbonated beverages.