by Susen James
During the last plague children played funeral
digging holes & placing their dolls & stuffed animals
in saying a few words they deemed holy
appropriate shadow for its best purpose
beneath this haunted moon
The spirits are friendly tonight there will
be no sleep I write the same poem over &
over & over again I’d prefer
to write without consequences
to pretend I am not searching
Night sky a chalkboard that
draws its astrologies over my face
an afterlife of light swimming in my eyehole
I write to remember
The virus is dancing Kyiv is being bombed
I savor a feast of goblin fruit & grave cake
windowpanes rattle a pattern that
could almost be words
Susen James writes to remain somewhat sane. She is obsessed with writing poems about
her obsessions & is currently working on a series of poems about Baba Yaga & a poetry
art collabortion with artist, David Feingold. She teaches mythology, fantasy lit & poetry at
Columbia College in Chicago.
