issue three / reverie
Visions
Alorah Welti
At the vermilion border,
warm with frost, bruised
by the streetlamp—that false moonlight;
I finger my wounds.
Six years stick to the roof of my mouth,
moonstone clinks between my teeth.
The crows croak and pur
about visions like these.
To wax and never wane again,
the water to become oil--
Out from under that creased hour,
we exhume ourselves
and our broken wishbones;
finally in our favor.
warm with frost, bruised
by the streetlamp—that false moonlight;
I finger my wounds.
Six years stick to the roof of my mouth,
moonstone clinks between my teeth.
The crows croak and pur
about visions like these.
To wax and never wane again,
the water to become oil--
Out from under that creased hour,
we exhume ourselves
and our broken wishbones;
finally in our favor.
Alorah Welti (she/her) is a Minnesota-born feminist, synesthete, poet, and prize-winning artist. Her work has appeared in Anti-Heroin Chic, lavender bones, Rejection Letters, Lit. 202, and elsewhere. She is one of the poetry editors for The Cloudscent Journal and a reader for The Selkie. She lives on stolen Mohican and Wabanaki land, just north of North Adams, Massachusetts, with her family. You can find her on X at @alorahsky.