From The Edge of Nowhere
Ophelia predicted this, born out
of an uprooted flower bed,
girl of the moon daisies, girl the
storms emulate on rainy apocalyptic
days, I am a dull, worn urn, my
pictures fading, the tempest unhinged
& saltwater soaked on cloudy
afternoons when little girls ask, are
our tears built from the ocean or is
the ocean built from our tears?
Why am I a stone wall lately, why do I
look at crypts and think: self-projection,
why do I look at stars and see dead
beings somehow still bloated with light,
somehow still existing, still being,
still carrying on, (why carry on when
your world is only darkness?).
She misses blueberry pancakes &
baking cookies in her grandma’s kitchen
& the old tree house where she played
pirates with her brothers & that
Q: Do you ever miss something you’ve never
A: I miss a childhood I’ll never have.
When she hears the word ‘sweetheart’
she’ll flinch like a bug with it’s wings
cut off and she’ll feel it all over again: his
slimy hands running up her thighs, his
fist against her mouth, drowning,
Where are these blissful gardens the lore
speaks of and where can we find them?
Where can we build a castle out of
these black bricks of void?
By Jupiter Reed
Jupiter Reed is a young published poet and writer whose been spellbound by the fairytale world of fictional realities since she was a little girl. She would kill for chocolate, is a huge admirer of Sylvia Plath’s worth and writing to her is a form of self-medicating. Her poetry book, “Wrecking Rainbows” is now available on Amazon & Barnes & Noble! In the future, she aspires to ground herself more firmly into the starry and cavernous depths of the writing world.