Poetry by Rachel Reilly

The Vintage Skirt I Wore Before I Had a Body

Blue time fades, her cotton
hangs like a flame--
a candle stuffed away in your mother’s closet, ready
to ignite. She is the best
arsonist—the one who burns
that layer between skin and bone. But stays back,
herself never changing but for the slightest
fade. Her arms circumference twenty-two inches

and button so tightly
you can’t breathe.

She’s done this before; she’s been around
since 1955. Her gaunt ghost victims try to hide
in every pleat that gathers,
clutching to your rib cage, passing down
their pain. She is stern,
like the woman who first wore her, tightly
knit, with no give--
no sympathy.

​


After Untitled III

 the hard heart-
work  of moving on
that silence at the back
of your stomach   like
almost-hunger

the way loss feels between your toes
after a stubborn walk                    when
sandals come   off you   never meant to divert
this  far out from comfort  it's the part

songs omit :
unsubversive     in intimacy
unglamorous    almost  ugly
these  blisters  that  callous
too slowly

​


American Sonnet for the Eighth Grade Girl Who Rolls Her Eyes at Me Each Time I See Her

A decade reincarnated a vision of aversion almost like myself
If viewed from the mental hole where innocence decayed is stored:
A declawed rescue cat, maladjusted to her new master, soft
Like a stuffed cat, given No Choice but to live in the bored
Blank space of days. Maybe I project my memories: school,
Sulking, head-aching words, and earlier, slipping through doors
Before Mother steals her choice to smear some neo-crocodile shit
(Historically speaking) like sunglasses to hide her true eyes’ lives
From Instagram--more glam than smeared, teared Myspace. If
Scout’s rebel phrase (pass the damn ham) was all I learned,
Fourteen and too insecure to hear, it's hard to hope she'll listen
And let words ignite her soul. Likely, Apathy will grow itself out,
Eventually, like hair fried from box dye and Choice will start
To situate inside rebellion and free her from slow stagnance.

​

Bio: Rachel Reilly is a Chicago born writer and visual artist who currently resides in Albuquerque, NM with her 4 lb dog, Baby Sappho. She blogs at https://atmosphereofglass.wordpress.com/ and Tweets at @rach_anastasia.

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