Seattle

by Meredith MacLeod Davidson

Thom Milkovic

Elaborate sprawl of heartache you are memory carrion rattling a tin of shiny things over residual iMessages. Symbolist jewels lost among an Olympic verve where last season’s blizzard still eclipses the trails. When the parallelograms settle across my chest I know I’ve invited a Secondhand News sort of curse. A Never Going Back Again string pattern of tea glyphage yielding small broken pieces unrelated over a lapsed Instagram irony. The caption leeching the truth of a vaguely coerced massage. Those Epicurian performances are rooted in neither time nor place anymore. You are a chalky blue seascape holding a very Japanese tension between movement and stillness. My pistachio-shaped illness incubating from mere mention of limbic furl. The night you took my vowels from me geometry sat flipped above the waist and the hormone rush of the arboretum morphed my yearning to cystic blueberries in the larynx, metronymics translated holy into grooves of a violet vinyl skipping arrhythmic into that good night. Watch how soapy opal glaciers settle into the mountain folds. Each segment of wounded persona marked in the sylphy: moon, earth, solar. Typing angst into your cyber idyll. It’s nice to see everyone emerging from the winter. A roadside cherry stand made for our chapped hands.

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Meredith MacLeod Davidson is a poet and writer from Virginia, currently based in Scotland, where she earned an MLitt in Creative Writing from the University of Glasgow. Meredith’s poetry is published or forthcoming in The London Magazine, Puerto del Sol, Cream City Review, Propel Magazine, The Boiler, Gutter, and elsewhere.