Tessa Micaela is the author of Where Bells Begin (Rescue Press, November 2019) and there are boxes and there is wanting (Trembling Pillow Press 2016). Currently living and working in central Vermont, Tessa practices clinical herbal medicine and generative/reproductive care. Tessa was a VSC Vermont Week resident in April of 2018. You can read the poem below.
website: tessamicaela.com
IG: turkeyvultures
FB: tessa.micaela
at last/ the body is so salty that/its long story dissolves/the mirror
-after Inger Christensen
lacewing aflame, lacewing longs for sound, and chicory
and lengthened dashes of blue, the world wets and waters and warms, turns
the corner to sundown and ice again, stretching
horizon of broken, or cracked and shattered silhouettes
of hooves or claws, how close they’ve come
in the dark, human animals wake to stories of ecology, home
disordered beneath carbon cover, I mean to say lace
exists, lace and amines and teeth and balsam nests and titles
which sideways into making in the night and humans dream,
and gossamer gas lines protrude across corn and memory,
it is too cold to have children anymore,
and plastic dolls and cigarettes embracing in the floating
continents which gather near the ice islands, and here
the Winooski river, frozen, or nearly so, and fragmites exist,
beside cattails and calamus, in swamps that refuse
construction, poisoned by Boeing and Lufthansa,
thudding across the corroded sky and honey and clocks
tremble on shelves, faucets ignite, and the bones,
bones so dry their long song hoarsely lingers, at last, aflame.