Recent Post
@metatronpress

- 6 hours ago

You have 5 more days to get your shit together and submit your manuscript to our single 2020 open reading period! M… https://t.co/iZQmT6s5rh
h J R
@metatronpress

- 3 days ago

RT @girthgirl: If you’re looking for something to read this weekend check out ?bédayine by @MIDNIGHTFILTH! It’s a manageable size and it’ll…
h J R
@metatronpress

- 4 days ago

Bonjour hi! We are a literary press that specialize in publishing first books by emerging writers and we have an op… https://t.co/SfshKiq1i0
h J R
@metatronpress

- 5 days ago

RT @casonsharpe: new newsletter out now!! check yr junk/spam folders!! if you haven't subscribed yet, it's not too late: https://t.co/VaNy
h J R
Archives

OMEGA | Sophia Reuss
6342
post-template-default,single,single-post,postid-6342,single-format-standard,ajax_fade,page_not_loaded,,qode-theme-ver-6.3,wpb-js-composer js-comp-ver-5.0.1,vc_responsive

Sophia Reuss

10 Jul Sophia Reuss

[RECEIPT PAPER POEMS]

 

 

to discern petals
from the leaves,
a seam traces
my memory’s curve–
the Thing–
with permission
to unconceal

 

from under suns milk,
a clear sheath
for the possible weighs

 

when it settles,
go gently, hold it so
in the quaver of your hand

 

where i seek entry,
torn and resewn
into your articulations
again

 

//

 

i wish to live within utterances, to
push outward at their edges and
impress my prints upon
their candle wax surfaces

 

a space within the skies
tells me this is impossible
or perhaps,
too late

 

//

 

and what if it arrives
after you’ve left?

 

questionable intent
lingers

 

//

 

there was not one
tear in the sky
that morning,

 

just
dust

 

//

 

will you
aspire?

 

will you
tend aimlessly

 

towards some
invariable sense
of softer pleasure?

 

a question, i suppose

 

//

 

without an ear
you seem
to see me better

 

//

 

the trees are between
four deaths.

 

after the last:
leaves,
incarnate,
precede.

 

//

 

i go in search of myself

 

i find
a thorn
a train ticket
a sense
a vial &
a whisper:

 

“the subject confuses
borrowed time
with sleep”

 

//

 

reading, i fall asleep;
existence in my way.
that desert is vast,
and nothing moves.

 

 


 

Sophia is a writer and poet currently living in Toronto.

More Recent Posts