2 poems

by Beth Mulcahy

watch the world melt; hear it crash

Under the glimmer of just enough February sun glowing out of the pale barely blue sky, we watch ice glisten into water as it drips wet from the trees like a slow motion rain. We watch the world melt though you remind me that it was never solid to begin with. We look at each other at the thunder cry of cracking limbs dislodging dangling icicles crashing down all around. We hear the world crashing though you remind me that it was never not crashing to begin with. We watch the world melt. We hear it crash. 

the fog of it

your senses shut off

and you’re left 

with your thoughts

too loud

to see clearly and

you can’t hear anyone’s voice or

look in anyone’s eyes and

you can’t touch anyone’s soul

or feel anyone’s love and

you can’t smell anything at all

or taste your food and

you can’t sleep on purpose

or recognize beauty and

you can’t sit still

or stop thinking and

you can’t see a point but

you can’t stop existing because

you can’t stop 

breathing

you can't stop

breathing

Beth Mulcahy (she/her) is a Pushcart Prize-nominated poet and writer whose work has appeared in various journals, including Full House Literary and Roi Faineant Press. Her writing bridges the gaps between generations and self, hurt and healing. Beth lives in Ohio with her husband and two children and works for a company that provides technology to people without natural speech. Her latest publications can be found here: https://linktr.ee/mulcahea