Sarah Lucille Marchant- Two Poems

To dissect inflections

Your voice takes up a shape not unlike a pyroclastic flow

singe my peacemaking, eat away at my sugar tongue

a swarm of cloud clings to you;

there is ash in your eyelashes, my dear

I gnaw at the ‘why’ behind all slidings in your words

unparalleled, this pitch throbs electric, 

rubbing against dead air 

while the queen observes coldly.

Depression

Someone stop this

sick cycle

this morsel of fog

this granule of devil-dust

lodged in my throat

as hours

pile up, breaking

my back.

If my sobs could purge

this virus, if shards

of glass and loose teeth

could bleed this phantom dry,

I would emerge

from my tomb of blankets

blinking fitfully

trying to familiarize

myself with the morning.

Sarah Lucille Marchant is a Missouri resident and university student, studying journalism, literature, and public relations. She is a contributing poet at the Flaneur art blog, a slush reader at Every Day Poets, and has had her writing published several places online and in print.