By Meg Griffitts

Rorschach in the Rocky Mountains

:        a cyclone of scorpions
in my bed        before you dragged everything out
next to the fire you couldn’t light before you broke
bodies    venom & blood    pooling
around my ankles        the conjuring of

invulnerability to
    tip their tails to                poison pictures
                        empty                 the new moon rising
               on my body

before deflection before I saw you before I wanted you
               I offered tangible worship
embodying the terrain

               to love me   you return to
symbols               every time
what do you see here?
               a fox with my lips on your wall
               a stinger crown  tails swiveling towards the sun
               my eyes crystallizing into amethysts

I never see what you want
               hands pulling my arms back or the suppression of shadows through hips

before there was desire
(to be put in place)


A Question for the Reptile Brain

I miscarry starlings
to the term of widowed butterflies. Seek

sanctuary in white teeth chattering
or the copper pipeline between thighs.

My December jaw builds oceans
out of snow banks. Into a raven’s jaw,

I project shadows. Wings thaw
from bone & each feather hinges to veil

eyes losing gray—miming the evergreen’s
echo: a chandelier

of guilty keys. Unravel the ocean
from sagging words & snow banks.

I know you’ll ask:
I know
of worse things.


“Darken your speech”
      -Wallace Stevens

heed the turbine pumping underneath
            the stream that climbs inside the moonfall
                        flaring whole on my back

wear bird calls around your neck
            they’re giving you instructions
                        in the pool of a deeryard
                                    in the scattering

tell me the exact shade
            of beetles sparkling in silence
                        or the aurora of light between thighs

if you say it’s the same             (what season is this?)
            I’ll believe you

let me stay in the glossary
of verdant portraits
            the mountains are sauntering to sunset
                        so we won’t tell time in stencils
                                    of aspens dissolving

instead             break me off emerald or jade
            until you can read me
                        until I can pull fists
                                    until I am

like roots
            like a landscape
                                    X out my eyes
                                                shake mountain peaks from trees
                                    find other shadows to carve

M Gee.jpg

Meg Griffitts received her MFA from Texas State University where she teaches, although, she calls Aurora, Colorado home. Her work has appeared in Crab Fat, Hypertrophic, The White Stag, BlazeVox, and others. More of her work can be found at

© 2018