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 1 Comment

Poetry by Lindsay Cortright

Picture
              stanze CC



Weights and Measures

My mother and I grew up in homes as still 
as the earth is steady. We learned to listen
to the groan of our foundation shifting, habitual
displacement of the ground beneath us. 

Softer than their serrated tongues, echoing
deeper than their laughter, the movements 
heavier than the brick he hurled 
at her face in the front yard, and more binding 

than any knot we tied
to the hope for a better future.
Our veins thrum to its beat. It follows me
to the basement and the piles of laundry 

where I sort light and dark, red and white.
I don’t have an antagonist. I don’t know if 
I am the witness, or maybe the defendant, 
in this case. I am guilty 

and unrepentant of looking too close 
at someone else’s scars: collateral 
damage. Our blood is thicker     
than the eyebrows we tend

daily, the saline brimming 
on our lash line, the glass of wine, 
half-full. We can't fix 
the people who raise us, but we both try

anyway. I am still trying 
not to try. My thoughts sway to the beat
of their own ragged syncopation, one 
late night away from stumbling 

off the stage. I retreat
to the backyard swing set with my anger.
The gravitation accelerates every high 
but most of the time, I can only feel 

the intervals between - the suspension. 
The dropped beat takes your breath 
away, turns your stomach outside in.
My mother and I don’t need

a trigger; we are the catalyst. Imagine
being "off your rocker:" out
of rhythm, but still tethered
to the seat, your mass staggering

its steady sway. Sometimes the motion stops.
I climb back to the seat, and tie the knot
tighter, gripping the rope like it will save
me. I look at my mother rocking 

beside me and wonder how 
she learned to hold on-
to the seat. I wonder how long 
she'll stay there.

​
Picture
Lindsay (she/her) is a research project manager by day and a queer writer, cat mom, and curious human the rest of the time. You can usually find her talking passionately about her latest project or reading about how not to procrastinate as a form of procrastination. You can find her in multiple places on the web, starting here: LindsayCortright.com.

1 Comment
Tina LEAR link
6/4/2021 07:26:55 pm

Lindsay. Magnificent poem. Haunting, and worth many, many slow rereads.

Reply



Leave a Reply.

    Author

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

    Archives

    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.