Red Fountain
It is worse in the evenings
At first I blamed you
You fucked this up
Still, even now
It is your fault
Evenings press on
Winter days pass
I am having a hard time
What was red in me is now
Sun-faded wagons and chewed cinnamon gum
Is it that I finally see
The gore of each day?
I am a funnel and cannot help
Swallowing, gulping
The oncoming sludge of evening
After evening after evening after
Then
The feast of night
A zillion stars to eat one at a time
I am appeased because for a second
You might see what I see
Magic
I go inside thinking, no
If you had
I’d still be red
I’d be a fountain
And at evening I’d call to say
Get ready for the stars
Waste
Now that it is cold enough
The sky is sharp
The stars are blades
Each one amassing the light of years
And cutting with the weight of them
Laying down on my skin
Letting the heft do its job
As I slow my pace to take them in
I am sliced through
And I think of you
If only you saw what I see
How meaningless we all are
How important it is
That we don’t waste it
Stephanie Macias is a writer, artist, and musician living in Austin, TX. She has toured all over the U.S. under the moniker Little Brave and has released five records, as well as created artwork for many albums and concert posters. She writes poetry and fiction daily. If she isn’t writing, she’s reading.