Poetry: Selections from Miro

The Angler Fish

a light

softly pulses invitation

from the gloom

beckoning

towards hope, warmth

a new beginning, perhaps

want takes over

pulls at the chest

quickens the pulse– lean in

hypnotized, desire rules reason

brightness snuffs out sight

so monstrosity stays hidden

prey basks

but doom has jaws

light can’t expose

and teeth piercing vulnerability

are felt too late

Insominac

sleep can’t chase the fist in my throat

ensnaring what’s left of my peace

and gaze is fixed on my doom

playing out over and over on the ceiling.

this is not my skin.

dread is the marrow in my bones and breath

does not come easy.

morning must be faced again

and i seek the courage to rise

from the layers of unease

that suffocate me.

Winter I

nothing remains

but clear sharp air

occupying space between trees’ branches

neurons searching for connection

Winter II

i will walk outside

in the blue of a January morning

and lay belly down in the dead

grass and leaves

put my ear to the ground

and listen to the sound of life

gone to sleep for a little while

i will inhale the smell of frozen dirt

and decay not yet finished and be still

for a little while

so that my heart can hibernate

and I can absorb wisdom

from the universe that will thaw

under the warmth of me

Miro is a poet based in NYC. Her work has previously been published in Modern Renaissance, Space City Underground, Sledgehammer Lit Mag, and The Blood Moon Journal. Her debut collection of poetry, Ebb and Flow, was published with Read or Green Books in 2021. When Miro isn’t putting words on the page, you can find her studying JavaScript or eyebrow deep in a book.