2 poems by Melissa Fry Beasley

Roiling

I have lived with a man
who would crush bones
in his teeth,
walking and gnashing
rage like rivers
that could not be contained.
Swollen and spilling over
the banks and levees
that were his family
and people,
bodies and spirits
left broken and dead
in this unholy wake
of destruction.
Appetite beyond satiation
a savage heaven within arms
too weak to hold her.
Secrets can never be scaled like walls
but shame will overtake you like plague,
leaving you to crack and crumble.
In hell you never know
the cool dark of quiet.
I have lived with a man
who knew nothing but suffering,
brought down sickness
like fruits from rotted vines.
Through the dimness I ran
farther than I thought I could make it.
At the edge I jumped into that angry water itself,
letting the roiling tide carry me to my freedom.

 

Skinned

We were born into longing
From isolation
Hungry & needing
The touch of another
Those hidden places
Wet with wanting
I want to drink each
Drop by sweet drop
I must have
The dew (which is you)
We can build nations –
This longing to escape
Our solitary cage
Abraded skin, thirsty skin
Make new, soft reborn caul
Gleaming supple skin

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Jeremiah Walton

Jeremiah Walton is wary of writing a bio.

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