Featured Poet: Janelle Cordero

Ffion Atkinson CC

​
​
ghosts and the moon

he’s backing the car out of a parking spot downtown and i ask him if he believes in
ghosts / he says no right away without / looking at me / that’s how little the
question shocks him / i ask why and / he shrugs still without / looking at
me and says he outgrew the idea / he accepts that ghosts don’t exist /
it sounds like this was something he had to come to terms with /
we’re on the road now / moving through downtown and
heading home / it’s dark and the sidewalks are busy
with people going to and from concerts and shows
and dinners and bars / i watch the people and i
want to say / i do believe in ghosts but / we
start talking about something else so / i
don’t bring it up again / but right before
we turn onto our street we notice the
moon is red / he says some things
can’t be explained and / i know
he’s not just talking about
the moon /  




million deaths

carl sandburg says we each have a million deaths to die and / we
should be given a new name each time we / die into a new
world see / dying is the same as birth because / they
both take us to a new and different place so / why
be afraid / i ask this because
i am afraid /




alive somewhere else

some days i think maybe we made a mistake burying you maybe / you weren’t dead
after all and / the whole ceremony was wrong / i want to dig you up because
maybe you’re scared of the dark down there and maybe / the casket lid is
too heavy for you to lift / it doesn’t matter that i’m an adult / too old
to be having these thoughts of resurrection / today i stare at the soil
above your grave / i bend down to touch its darkness and / i see
slim strands of grass breaking through the earth and somehow /
this tells me you’re dead here but alive somewhere else /




god is like that

yesterday i believed the most in god and / today the whole idea makes me / nervous
somehow like / an unexpected noise in the alley when / i take out the trash late at
night / i’m not saying god is like that but / the idea is untouchable sometimes and
that makes god untouchable and / faith untouchable and / hope untouchable so /
maybe tomorrow i’ll believe again or / maybe not but / god is like that /




before / it falls

there are people who say we are living in paradise right now / i see the way green
growth splits concrete and / how trees are tallest around cemeteries but / what
about the stars and / their promise of a distant and different place / do our
names even matter in the sky or / are we gods only here until / we’re not /
this earth is the center of everything but / the center is always off-kilter
like / a spinning top wobbling before / it falls /


​

Janelle Cordero is an interdisciplinary artist and educator living in the seventh most hipster city in the U.S. Both her writing and her paintings are sparse narratives that emphasize the disconnected nature of the human condition. Her writing has been published in dozens of literary journals, including Harpur Palate and The Louisville Review, while her paintings have been featured in venues throughout the Pacific Northwest. Her debut poetry collection, Two Cups of Tomatoes, was published in 2015, and her chapbook with Black Sand Press is forthcoming in 2018. Janelle’s artistic priority is to collaborate with other creators to push for social and political change. Stay connected with Janelle’s work at www.janellecordero.com. 

---