Ariel Machell: How It Was Done
Photo: Joanna C. Valente
Can I Stop for a Map Along the Way?
I’d like to speak to the tree in Georgia that owns itself
to ask how it was done
We memorize our zodiac signs and consult
the stars before a first date
because we want to be told who we are
Unsuitable mouths come together anyway
because we don’t like to be told what to do
It’s hard to believe we breathe when we sleep
I have my first breath again every morning
It sinks into me weighty as the tarot
and tells me when it will leave me
How could we not believe in the deep
influence of numbers when that’s all we are
I’m writing this with ten
You might be reading this with two
That man you were sure was staring
at the back of your head
was asleep in his seat all along
Entering a church spurs only a vague
architectural intrigue but I’ll bet my two
front teeth I’ve met that blue jay before
She meant something to me once
She must not understand the mechanics of flight
like I do to be sitting there with all
that open space right in front of her
Ariel Machell is an emerging poet. She earned her BA in Creative Writing from the University of Southern California in Los Angeles where she received the Gene and Etta Silverman award in poetry. She is a first year MFA candidate at the University of Oregon. Her work has appeared in or is forthcoming in Gravel, Verdad, Up the Staircase Quarterly, Landlocked, and elsewhere.
