< Issue 4 >
Appear the Disappeared
by Shae Savoy
Make
an appearance, not
an apology.
Chuck those
along with the garbage
bags your mother
would round up
your words in.
Recycle those words.
There are better
homes
than landfills.
There are gardens.
Notice the magazines
you’ve been saving, the seed
catalogues.
The putty knives and
socket wrenches.
You know how to
jimmy rig. You know the value
of duct tape and chickenwire.
I have been
of the Disappeared.
I have been a
street sweeper
a whistler
I have been
a broom closet.
I have been
the space between
pixels, small and
disconnected dabs
of color,
still winking in
the precious night,
glow-worms.
Appear fully, and don’t
sully your good name,
the one you grew into
like lycra,
that will never stop
expanding with your
unashamed flesh,
your pinkly dimpled
knees.
Do not believe
the Disappearance.
Remember how shark teeth
will always grow back,
will appear,
even from bloody stumps
gone sour on
bad meals.
Like a circular saw,
The blades will come back
around,
the incision marks will
light up like ley lines,
like runways reminding
you, from your Disappeared
hideout, beyond the breathable
air of your
correct
altitude,
they will remind you
of
you.
Appear the Disappeared
by Shae Savoy
Make
an appearance, not
an apology.
Chuck those
along with the garbage
bags your mother
would round up
your words in.
Recycle those words.
There are better
homes
than landfills.
There are gardens.
Notice the magazines
you’ve been saving, the seed
catalogues.
The putty knives and
socket wrenches.
You know how to
jimmy rig. You know the value
of duct tape and chickenwire.
I have been
of the Disappeared.
I have been a
street sweeper
a whistler
I have been
a broom closet.
I have been
the space between
pixels, small and
disconnected dabs
of color,
still winking in
the precious night,
glow-worms.
Appear fully, and don’t
sully your good name,
the one you grew into
like lycra,
that will never stop
expanding with your
unashamed flesh,
your pinkly dimpled
knees.
Do not believe
the Disappearance.
Remember how shark teeth
will always grow back,
will appear,
even from bloody stumps
gone sour on
bad meals.
Like a circular saw,
The blades will come back
around,
the incision marks will
light up like ley lines,
like runways reminding
you, from your Disappeared
hideout, beyond the breathable
air of your
correct
altitude,
they will remind you
of
you.
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