by Raven SC Lee
a sea of the slowest tangerine
waves stretching
all around me.
serrated swords, soft
martian boulders, stacked, potentiated,
hare and raven call.
meld, undulate.
there is coherence here
in the body of this place.
she asks
why have you come?
who will you be?
she opens to me
like arms
like legs
there is space here
to slip out of one way of being
and into another
I am contained by her
her strange beauty
and parched love.
she grasps my heart
wrings it. leftovers of some heartbreak
or another, a trickle on the sand.
she asks
what will you leave here
at the feet of the beloved
Raven SC Lee (she/her) lives on unceded land of the Confederated Tribes of the Grand Ronde and Siletz Indians on Wy-East (Mt Hood, Oregon) where she spends her time writing, hanging out in the forest and throwing funky pots. Raven writes memoir, essays and poetry. Her essays and poetry have appeared in Eunoia Review, One Art, Amethyst Review, Honeyguide Literary and Hip Mama. Raven is on a hiatus from her career as a psychologist and therapist trainer.
