Kore

She wears flowers.
Let’s them twist around her,
crown, ankles, wrists,
shackles. Daisies fold
in her mouth. Lilies
pulling against vocal cords.
She pretends they are heavy,
wants to sink. To let the river
Styx swallow her whole.

Sometimes, she feels more
at home when she’s drowning.
The sunlight burns her Spring
freckled cheeks – roses
aren’t supposed to wilt
in the Summer.

So, she lets herself Fall.
Be comforted in the tones
of wandering souls and
Cerberus’s howls. They are
symphony. She finds comfort
in the God that does not
pass judgement. The one that
merely watches from a throne
of ebony with the touch
of Winter.

 

Lizzie Waltner grew up in Rio Rancho, NM, attended ENMU for her BS in Journalism, and then completed her MA in Creative writing at Aberystwyth University, Wales, UK. She is now working as a teacher intern.