Heather Myers: Something Like Myth

SOMETHING LIKE MYTH

I did what he couldn’t. On the patio, I drew us over and over in chalk.

Long after he left, I signed the cards: Love, Heather & Tanner.

This labyrinth I inhabit—

sundrenched dreams, hospital hallways,

bleeding spots of grief, washing into

grey, his brain matter that could not fire fully.

Some faith: he knew something I didn’t.

His eyes floated to the sky, hid deep within his head.

Somewhere, in the center, everything not seen converges. 

Together we filled a body. We belonged to the world and it was ours. 

A POEM WRITTEN AFTER A THERAPY SESSION

A woman told me I had a white aura;

white is nothing to stain.

In this old room: fissured plaster, crystals, eucalyptus—

I’m told to imagine my wound.

It bulges behind the wall, nothing lovely.

I wash it with water. Not very heartbreaking.

I give it something it needs.

Tenderly, I pat soil over top. It swells

into a soft green. A healing

takes place in me, all around.

Some things come naturally, like silence or sickness.

Things that take up space in ways I cannot.

If something should grow,

I wish for camellias, pink like the pale sky at morning.

---

Heather Myers is from Altoona, Pennsylvania. She is currently pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing at West Virginia University. She is the recipient of a 2018 AWP intro award, and her work has appeared or is forthcoming inPuerto Del Sol, Up the Staircase Quarterly and Luna Luna Magazine. Her website is heathervmyers.com.