Anti-Heroin Chic
  • Home
  • About
  • Blog
  • Music
  • Art
  • Comedy
  • About Our Contributors
  • Masthead
  • Issues
  • About our contributors - 2019
  • About Our Contributors - 2020
  • About Our Contributors - 2021
  • Home
  • About
  • Blog
  • Music
  • Art
  • Comedy
  • About Our Contributors
  • Masthead
  • Issues
  • About our contributors - 2019
  • About Our Contributors - 2020
  • About Our Contributors - 2021
Search by typing & pressing enter

YOUR CART

​

5/25/2021

Poetry by Laura Carter

Picture
               ​Jody McIntyre CC




Weather


Morning is cool, the way a long array of early mornings can be. I step into it, take my coffee upstairs, and wait for it to warm up. If I could only finally eat something solid, I would. If I could only finally sneak up on the outside, as if to say, “I don’t belong here.” Coyote, owl, cricket: each of them would hear me. Each one would rise out of its resting place, convinced that it was the most important creature to appear. Each phoenix would appear slowly creeping up to the flames. What else could they do?

*

What do you see when the snow first falls? I can’t remember the last time I saw it. The loveliness of pure ice, as it is called. But what does the heat say in return? Too much of a glass away from fracturing when summer hits. So much torpor of weather, yet spring makes it feel so normal. As far as I can see, I want to fall into it with my eyes closed, escape the world, never return. This feels ancient. I don’t know how they don’t see the signs: asleep at the wheel, thyroid acting up, faking it all the time. So.

*

I rest up. Nothing seems weather-y at all. But I know that the crux of things is that Eliot didn’t like weather. But what about the poems? There’s not much left there. I am attached to culture as much as I can be, but I can’t fall off it. I need to fall. Mom does, too. Where in the morning did this illness find us? Was it the longest day of the year, or the longest night of the star brigade? I assume, perhaps wrongly, that you feel it, too. I don’t know whose side you’re on, but I always hope it’s mine.

*

I feel it’s wrong, always: the corrections of weather. It’s always coming in from somewhere new. So they say. I’m sorry I lost you, I want to say, but always to the wrong one. And, really, no zeros, like the row of them I saw once. I wish I could claim salvation from the clouds or from the interiors of mangoes. But I can’t. I wish I could wash myself to the shores of the state, lay up there, like waiting to be pardoned. It doesn’t make any sense to wait on the executive branch, someone says. Yes, I know.

*
​



Laura Carter lives in Atlanta, GA, where she was born and raised. She finished grad school in 2007, and she has published several chapbooks since then, including three with Dancing Girl Press in Chicago. She teaches college writing and humanities.
​


Comments are closed.

    Author

    Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.

    Archives

    December 2024
    November 2024
    August 2024
    July 2024
    April 2024
    March 2024
    December 2023
    November 2023
    October 2023
    September 2023
    August 2023
    July 2023
    June 2023
    March 2023
    December 2022
    October 2022
    July 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    January 2022
    December 2021
    November 2021
    September 2021
    August 2021
    July 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    August 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016

    Categories

    All

    RSS Feed

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.