here in

by Lauren Suchenski

the silence of November, 

I tuck a little piece of my 

beating heart 

under a leaf; under a mushroom cap 

to let it ferment; 

maybe it will walk itself off, 

dizzy itself clean, wild itself new, 

maybe it will root itself pure 

And in the snow and tumbled ash 

of January, maybe it will curl around a seed; 

nugget itself into something 

that can grow; maybe my eyes 

will spin me around, 

and let me see the water run clear 

Tuck a cap full of acorns into 

my shoes and teach me how to 

float, a red leaf in the wind, tracing 

itself in the light that bounces 

off a telephone wire 

phoning home

Lauren Suchenski has a difficult relationship with punctuation. She has been nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize and four times for The Best of the Net. Her chapbook “Full of Ears and Eyes Am I” (2017) is available from Finishing Line Press, and a full-length collection “All You Can Measure” as well as a chapbook “All Atmosphere” (Selcouth Station 2022) are forthcoming. You can find more of her writing on Instagram @lauren_suchenski or on Twitter @laurensuchenski.