Maayan Avery is a 21-year-old aspiring writer who resides in Jerusalem Israel. She has been featured in After the Pause, Eunoia Review, and Lunch Ticket.
~*~
Topography of A Gold Boy
Oaks full of grime,
GoldBoy visits me once a month;
he hardly pulls thorns from my cheeks
While I sleep-
GoldBoy dresses himself
In my frocks,
gauze,
beads–
between mud and sky candlemass,
I ache to be him
To count his lashes,
opals,
curls
his honeysuckle veins;
so I dwell in forests
lucid dream
to map his silhouette.
twigs, fuchsia, pine cones
prick my feet, saplings
Dead on toothy grass;
a sepulchral bog.
I inspect waste,
call for GoldBoy in a corpse of light—
I can resurrect his monument
To find my missing bone;
Night swerves
Swirls
like halos of starlings.
Martin, why didn’t you tell me?
For years now I’ve cried in your shadow,
pretending it was the sun.
~*~
Insomnia
Midnight and house static. Backyard fences are spectral; stray cats speak wafers of moon. My pipe, an old lover’s lips. Swimming in candle wax, I am
sleep parachutes and phantoms; an electron to bring back yesterday. After sunset, I clambered upwards from balconies: roofs over roofs to star cluster
mosaics. Shawls of pastel on Saturn. Owls disrobed for prayer; their wings, the church and altar. Utopia now blurred. A missing translation. I search for comets
but slip in catacombs. My pillows eclipse from lace to cotton. The window: a milky hallucination. The horizon swerves; an open vowel. Dear blanket, moth-
scent. I have forgotten the name for a home.
~*~
Musa
I reside in your painting:
A beast milking marrow from moonlight-
Acrylic droplets on honeycombs of cells.
Your garden is full of diamonds; if I cry, they will multiply–
Bring clouds
That refract light—
In your ocean, I wake and call:
I am more hungry and less fed
I am lesser lonely and more wed
To your symmetry but not dead
Rushed into silence.
~*~
4 thoughts on “person Maayan Avery, three poems”