Poetry by Nicole Callräm

                 ​renee. CC



shatter


because I feel altogether too much, dive nightly 
in-to glacial lakes of disappointment—observe 
truth rise-- pair of inky loons   

I confuse heartbreak with breathing and 
am easily seduced by all that lies beyond the reach of my fingertips

speaking more plainly, I want what, I mean who, I can’t have
now 

the gift age brings is deep doubt, I think—expansive—as the
way moonglow glints over broken glass, vulnerable as a smile
you cover yet slips silent from liquid eyes

do we ever reach a clarity of being? I mean, will
“I” become “persimmon” or “penumbra” or whatever clouds
speak on mountaintops
because the valleys no longer love verse?

I have tired of all these things--
am drawn to what turns me away and away 

shattered is a beautiful dialect of alone


Golden shovel from Louise Glück’s “The Red Poppy”
​

Nicole Callräm (she/her/她) is a nomadic bureaucrat and disciple of existence in all her life-affirming and confusing manifestations.  She adores rideshare bikes, red wine, and Osmanthus flowers (preferably a mix of the three...all at once).  Nicole has been published in Full House Literary, Nude Studio, Kissing Dynamite, and Rat's Ass Review.  You can find her on Twitter at @Yim

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