The Shade Here is Lavender and Optimistic

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.

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