rebirth at the turn of the century

Mia Golden

// I sent a letter to Herodotus, begging him to make a historian out of my clay-fused bones, a reverse-cocooning in a scorching kiln // A postscript looping at a fractured joint, a thistle jabbing at text like a memory // He will stain his hands with the flaking, cracking glaze of a terracotta girl // He will see the same comets, the same flaming cysts of sky // He will cower; I will rise // My blood boils before it hits the ground, before the sage and bramble soak it up // Perhaps this is why we are choked by drought // I fasten my wishes to a butterfly’s soul-soaked knees, telling her to flock to brighter springs while I crumple inwards // A moon-dusted undoing, porcelain to loam // I will rewrite a calendar to follow Jupiter, kissing lightning bolts in his stead // I will shatter this greenhouse chrysalis, emerge a transmutation of a girl in dripping adobe // For once, don’t tell me I am unable to fly //

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Mia Golden (she/her) is a teen poet from California who loves the smell of campfire and the feeling of a poem sitting in her mind, waiting to be brought to life. She is forthcoming or featured in Blue Marble Review, Eunoia Review, All Guts No Glory, and Pollux Lit. She hopes you have a great day!

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