michele worthington
At the border checkpoint the gods realize their mistake
Apollo
suddenly turns around to follow
the gunshot echo back east, popping
kernels of light sloshing out of the chariot,
mixing with litter of haste on the six lane-
tin foil packets of taco bell hot
sauce mimicking shell casings sopping
ketchup, bit water jugs lipstick stained,
beef broccoli bowl and little spoon-
upended planet and plastic moon
eclipsed by cartel tarred tires- unshod
horses return to the sea and breathe
through gills as Poseidon pauses, replots
the flood, rethinks evolution of blood and teeth
Where do souls come from?
Are they loosely tethered balloons
in your rear-view,
above the reflection
of skidding tires-
Or are they waiting off stage
for the final curtain fall,
for eutherian applause
actor replacing character
in brief duality?
Or deep in the Earth
beneath
Grecian
amphitheaters
tightly tiered
in reverse
grief
tugged forth
one by one,
by birth,
like white
beliefs
from a Kleenex
box
for tears
at your funeral.
Deportation of Hope
the porch light was not left on
the doorknob could not be found
windows had to be broken
wafting with the kitchen curtains
our mother’s perfume
that she wore before the vote
a yellowed dress on the parlor
floor, a crumpled reminder
of personhood
behind bedroom walls
the whimper of a parable
that no longer asks to be fed
muddling in the root cellar
pages torn from diaries
hurried into packing boxes
with no forwarding
address
Michele Worthington lives in Tucson, AZ where the Sonoran Desert, urban sprawl and our unacknowledged apocalypse inspires her writing. She has had poems published in Sandscript, Sandcutter, and Sabino Poets; an online chapbook at unlostJournal.com; and photography and poetry in Harpy Hybrid Review. She was a Tucson Haiku Hike and Arizona Matsuri contest winner, and a finalist for the 2023 Tucson Festival of Books literary awards.