TO ALASKAN NIGHTS

PUBLISHED POETRY INCLUDED IN MY FORTHCOMING COLLECTION: LETTERS TO NOWHERE

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i unpacked my heart’s weighted bags,

the night i howled at the sky,

the night i begged neon war-stripes

to unleash themselves against the blackness.

i knew i was wolf with wiry silver strays

denying coal hair, whispering to native sky gods 

for answers—scepter tilts of chartreuse 

and fiery blush cheeks. earlier that day, 

i left palmer after coffee, stale breath 

painting my tongue like muddy watercolor,

passing reindeer farms and selfish mountains

whose fingers groped the sky without permission.

i pulled over to admire hell—a patchwork-quilted 

gorge aglow with birch leaves and lusty voices 

cradling her promise. still, clouds and locals 

claimed her whispers were trickster wind.

she’s been quiet for days.

you’ll find nothing but silent hazy skies.

seven hours north was fairbanks 

and a derailed train car to sleep in, 

milky way spirals, submissive fading of light 

erased by ink. before my faith sunk 

into pregnant stillness, aurora bled her first

cut of jungle green, emeralds spilling 

from her wrist, filling space with answers

to my riddle of who makes dripping skies,

fading portals, and effervescent dances

brilliant enough to lure seekers into permanent sleep 

like sirens on the rocks of midnight.

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Originally published in Poeming Pigeon (Cosmos issue—print), February 2020