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Artwork: Lighter Than Air by Will Jacques

Staircase at Night
Alexander P. Garza

The stairs in my childhood home
are haunted. I don’t know by whom.

But I’ve heard them weigh black boots
into each step. They reach the second story,

touring each bedroom. A knock later and
I’m in my room, a detective seeking clues.

The Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep
wall-sweater is on the carpet-ground,

push pin still stabbing walls,
hole in the parchment still intact,

a lowering of the thermostat by no one
knows whom from the staircase at night.

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Recurring Phoenix
Alexander P. Garza

Purple sky and I stand at the precipice
of a vivid green cliff,

water spilling into the fiorge from
the middle of the mountain side.

Tulips line the field,
and a giant phoenix soars up around me.

Peering over the edge,
I see and brace for death.

At the surface of the river,
I see my floating body;

the phoenix takes my place
alongside pale backdrop blues.

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Incisors
Alexander P. Garza

Five minutes until the rabid wolves
come to impale me with incisors.

There’s no way to clear the fog
with a pair of shears.

Let the ghost-beasts ravage
my body and leave me for dead;

I’m a ghost already, so it won’t hurt
as bad as the first time, and it won’t be slow.

Three minutes until melancholic songs
come to shake my senses.

There’s a way to skin wolves
if you can kill them first.

I tame them with my songs,
I maim them and slake my thirst.

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