Argument Against Leftovers
I’m always giving you the ends
of bottles, written-in books, spare time
nervous with my completion drive,
a sparrow-footed stance
flits away toothless
to peck at the next assignment.
Meanwhile, behind that blind
we remain vis-à-vis via the written,
one-way mirror, auto-fillet, each missal
a vivisection of petrified forest.
Sifting through the exploded layers of ash
we meet like goo and lightning,
the one-off moment of understanding
galvanizing separate meanings of mutual respect.
A pair of pristine volumes in Osiris’ scale
pull you down with more
regret perched on the six-foot ledge.
Instead, I mean them to tinder a fire-flight of you,
the embalmed in whisky, gin, and frankincense.
Though they won’t curl like cannabis and avant-garde,
my gut says they will liquefy your brain like the other things,
reflect in your fractal-dark eyes the feather-
light hope of writing
That dying is glorious.
Every year’s last drops of life
Seeping to the farthest edges
Turning leaves amber golden
Translucence gilded by sun after setting sun
Until they can hold on no longer
And fall from dancers’ arms
Grey marble veins still-laced against the icy sky
Precursors of crackled frost
Suggesting the elsewhere-consciousness of sculpture
Senseless of time
Patient of exposure
Frozen in the tableau of winter’s death
Laughing at those who sulk forsaken
It wakens new beckoning shoots to the faithless
And rises again.
The Weight of the Color Loud
The windchime sound stirs
My tea no one understands,
Makes me feel too loud.
Shoulders fold with care,
Only in my eyes.
Desk weighed down with hues,
Psychedelic lily pads
Fraught with mismatched wares:
Neon watermelon mug,
Too-bright mystic art.
Pouring out my weight,
Heavy with nothing to lose,
Sense and spirit join
Like swirlings of cream
That lift my eyes with sparkling
Wrinkles. I will smile,
Skin steeped in satisfaction,
From the inside out.
Grace Ure will be graduating from Kansas State University in May 2018 with a Cultural Studies track MA in English. To date, she has only been published once before in Touchstone magazine during her undergraduate degree, also from Kansas State. After completing her BA, Grace went on to read for an MPhil from Oxford University. Next, she stepped away from academia to coach rowing for several years before embarking on her present degree. She currently lives in Manhattan, KS, with her husband and two cats.