– Cheyenne Marco
dialect of fire devouring copper.
them beneath my own skin.
your arteries, your veins.
how you will house a thousand pebbles
reject the stone.
will not shelter me from sand in the wind.
not to look for the unnecessary.
your concessions in a spider’s web,
I will never be able to seize
connection in the white maze.
yourself in leaves and twigs,
listen to the spinning of the earth,
revel in the sorrys not sworn.
will never say them.
will run as the prey though you may be the beast.
through my pleas for water by the fireside.
does not dwell at the site of a predator’s feast.
taste the individual raindrops that make up the lake.
yourself before the pride.
will be held for your worth,
lioness does all of the hunting.
the highest tree tops
enjoy the limited reign of our domain.
that your wing may break.
have the right to shatter.
Word is yours,
will be mine.
Marco grew up on a Minnesota poultry farm and finds inspiration for her writing
in her rural upbringing. She teaches at USD, works on the South Dakota Review,
does outreach for Friends of the Big Sioux River, and fantasizes about sleep.
Her works have appeared in Lake Region Review, Vol. 1 Brooklyn, and Prairie