Issue 1 Cover Poecology

Issue 1

 

Briony Gylgayton

 
 

Within the Foothills

 
 
hemming in,
the foothills taste just like chokecherries
pressed into smaller spaces
foothill suburbs burst with sunbeams, stifled
in between spine joints,
houses in rows

low ridge over the high school,
the red pocked grocery roof,
flickering swimming pools and heat
hazed tennis courts,
the mountain base surges

I rushed until I couldn’t climb any more, up
cawing and lowing of cattle and crows, up
the lowing of the mountain,
up from canyon hips, flowed up
the mountain body

the mountain summit showed me
down in the wine cheese park festival
middle women all pintucked
middle men wine drunk, letting off regular odors
jazz so loud and hollering so muffled
I am back in the asphalt swimming
old gum and chlorine rising
who escaped

the mountain summit shows me, I can see where I
tangled myself up like a bird in netting,
the grip of deer-addled foothills
spread on the summit I can see where
mild hill creases are not enough
with fast fading and clinging
in foothills there is the taste of
aprons pressed with chokecherries

in the foothills my chest opens up
like window shutters
to let the air ruffle
my high skirt hem up to my shoulders