SICK LIT MAGAZINE

without the sea

 

you peeled away me

so there was

only you,

and the gnawing tiredness

of bones;

you made me weak and weary and tired

and sad and angry all at once

there was no escape

from this blind crawling like a baby sea turtle

i was fighting against the birds and sand

to reach my final destination

hoping that i wasn’t devoured by some hunger

that existed outside of me—

i don’t know

what you wanted,

but it wasn’t me and i don’t know what you loved but

she wasn’t me either;

because you destroyed the person i once was

made me give up everything i was and changed my future

by shattering my past—

this growth while perhaps necessary was painful

so much so

that i lashed out at strangers

because my hurt was so large and i was so small and nothing

seemed to soothe the throbbing, burning pain

within my soul;

before i met you i was full of energy and life

afterwards i had to remember how to grow because for

a while i was only broken and exhausted

without a view of the crystal jade sea who always

nourished me.

---

 

the maddest of hatters

 

there’s a plethora of girls that

call themself alice,

but i am the

mad hatter;

there is no white rabbit that could

even entrance me

my joy is in ribbons and lace and creation

and perhaps a bit of tea

sitting by the edge of the wood

muttering to myself

about everything and nothing at all because

sometimes you need expert advice,

after all,

and no one knows me better than me;

even the cheshire cat knows that

with his ate the canary grin—

i always admired the white queen and i wanted

her to run away with me,

but she was busy

falling in love with independence and men

that were not me;

she’s the only woman i ever loved but she was not

mine to hold

i don’t care much for alice

because she’s always slaying jabberwockies and red queens

and chasing knaves—

there’s only ever been one woman for me,

and she will remain beautiful always

even when time

takes her away from me.

---

 

let every sunset haunt

 

someone has to play the villain, baby,

so let it be you

let it be you;

running for your mirror

draped in the perfectly disguised wounded warrior

mask that you wear so well,

narcissus,

and you let my voice echo

my love for you

over and over without reply;

until like ophelia

i’m laying in the river with flowers and you rejoice

in the silence—

but like the immortal phoenix

i rose from the ashes of your chaos

to haunt you

in the eyes of every sunset

that ever made me smile love in your eyes.

---

 

the terror of your name

 

i am going to drop

all the hour glasses

watch the sands as they

drift

across the floor in a slow

retire

ignore your screaming

when you ask me what’s wrong with me

because i’m not the one with

the issues,

you are;

always self-assured the world will

give you all your wants and aims and you’ll never

meet conflict or have to face your problems—

i am going to shatter all your fish tanks

that hold mermaids like me,

and i will destroy all your gilded cages

you keep for birds like me;

and i will set on fire every pedestal you have

for ladies like me—

because i am a wild, untamed creature

and you have for too long tried to put out my fires

creative or otherwise

to have complete control in every domain;

and i will free any woman i must

so that she can not know the terror of your

name.

---

 

sprite of music

 

dancing frees me

of your expectations and judgments

inhibitions flow out the door

lose myself in the heart and soul of

the music,

and there’s no getting me back

until the music leaves

so you best make yourself comfortable

if you’re not dancing with me;

closing my eyes

the dance floor isn’t even a factor

cannot see the other dancers

because i’m putting my heart and soul into

the beat of this song—

drink that drink for me, darling, because

i’m not interested;

would rather be alone than with someone

and lonely

wouldn’t expect a small person like you to

understand so feel free to crawl back from that

hole you came out of

because this song speaks to me on a deeper

level than you ever could.

---

 

***

Linda M. Crate is a Pennsylvanian native born in Pittsburgh yet raised in the rural town of Conneautville. Her poetry, short stories, articles, and reviews have been published in a myriad of magazines both online and in print. Recently her two chapbooks A Mermaid Crashing Into Dawn (Fowlpox Press – June 2013) and Less Than A Man (The Camel Saloon – January 2014) were published. Her fantasy novel Blood & Magic was published in March 2015. The second novel of this series Dragons & Magic was published in October 2015. The third of this series Centaurs & Magic is slated for a November release. Her third poetry collection If Tomorrow Never Comes(Scars Publications – August 2016) was recently published. Her poetry collection Sing Your Own Song is forthcoming through Barometric Pressures Series.