Cheyenne Taylor


The room too cold, the sun still shuttered up,
a fern curls back into a Coke-brown crozier
and sloughs its dozing cells into the carpet.
She doesnít care, her house dress thin as autumnís
slow, distant thrills that peak when summer stops
ivying up the walls, explodes in seeds
of parakeet green, and waits for harvesting.
The eggshell wit of eveningís matte light flattens
against her cheek. This year she doesnít have
her daughter, zephyr in her campus colors,
hammocking on the green with long-haired girls:
her new, and only, sisters. Home is hollow
as a phone receiver, no vibrations humming
from jaw to ear, just tinny distance. She buffs
her feet, alone, and lets the room go dark,
rubbing until the pomegranate flesh
blooms from her piebald heels, until she molts
enough to brush her dead dust to the floor.

Cheyenne Taylor

CHEYENNE TAYLOR is a recent graduate of the masterís program in English and Creative Writing at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. As a student of formal poetry, she attended the West Chester Poetry Conference on scholarship in June 2016. Her work has appeared in Southern Womenís Review, Dirty Chai Magazine, and Fourteen76.

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