THE PORTALS OF TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES
by Anah-Karelia Coates
1)
Most of the time the sun beats so hard that it bleaches the sidewalk.
During the daylight hours, I imagine people here hide in their houses and drink booze.
Only taking a break to drive to the one grocery store in town because it’s too hot to walk.
Hopefully they can afford the tiny bottles of bitters from Germany with the white, green, and gold paper-wrapped tops.
Hidden in the liquor aisle, only 1.99 each. A deal containing 10 percent alcohol and good for tummy problems as well
2)
The shade here is lavender and optimistic
The cat named Bob takes luxurious naps in every angle of sunless space
His fur color and round face reminds her of an oatmeal cookie punctuated with raisins
He spends most of his time in the courtyard of an old motel that was built in the 50’s and is now a collection of rented bungalows. There is still a no vacancy sign at the front entrance and a wall of glass bricks. There is also a pomegranate tree whose fruit opens like a slack jaw and just hangs there in amazement waiting for birds to feed on it.
3)
That day she wore a dress printed with Lima beans with a touch of green shaped shadows
Failed to mention:
A pair of birds live under her ribcage
one on either side
She could reach her hands back through her sleeves and slide her arms along the cool cliffs of her torso to feed them tiny
seeds of light
Every flutter of their wings hurt
She often woke with bruises
4)
She dreamed
A cat burglar in a boiler hat stole her heart in the middle of the night
And threw it into the missing river
The water of no water
The dry tongue of the arroyo bed wagging heat infused incantations
The faint sound of goat bells coming from a ghost walking her herd of goat ghosts
A thirsty lover or two rose like aberrations in evaporating water
Arms reached out for Messiah hugs
The air hungry dead were shouting so loudly she had to cover her heart with a deaf blanket
A riptide of windy sorrows swirled around her ankles
Well-folded apologies like sun-baked pastries laid and left on rocks as offerings to another time.
5)
She slept walked to the fridge at the Airbnb that she mistook for her grandmother’s kitchen
That kitchen had always been filled with lima bean shadows with a hint of green
Barefoot and liminal, once there, she opened the fridge and got face-bombed by a cloud of moths. They seemed uninjured and flew past her face but some lingered for a moment in her hair.
Anah-Karelia Coates is a poet and astrologer living in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
