Jenn McCreary

from a doctrine of signatures

10.

one feared biblical foods; the other set the table with plates of figs,
      olives & the like. both existed for three
days on nothing
but tea & honey. we’ve since determined loss
of appetite to be existential, made allowances for spells
& seizures—that is a fainting-
couch; that is a court
jester’s chair.

11.

this is a fine kettle—       nevermind about the fish. I will
cast my hair on the water & we will have no need
of hooks.                a lantern set upon water will lure
fish to the surface. a flashlight pressed against
the skin will reveal a holy secret—she
is a milkweed pod, split-open for the wishing. he
is a splendidly decorated ocelot.

I rewrote you, easy Opheliana, a penny dreadful, wandering
the garden, reciting pages from a seed
catalog. an island only reachable through
storm.               my hands uncurled from their clinging-place
on the oars of the lifeboat & tore the veil from my
throat.               removed my teeth as a precaution
against choking.

 

 

Issue #1