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Fishbowl Brain
Remember how you loved melike a goldfish; behind the glassof your eyes I sawmy heart was never born in Junebeside the peonies and the lilac,nor at the bus stop where you showed methe cigarettes in your body.Body, tell me about forever.Tell me how to see in 1080p, how to get backto thinking in pictures knowingthere’s…
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Poem of what goes through my mind when she tells me I don’t have to be brave and I try to believe her
Beneath the wood we stacked in the takeout containers—to save money on the heat bill—is the life we’ve made. A life made of letters, made of all the ending lines, of all the poems I never sent you. I flinch at your touch but eat your frozen udon and day-old empanadas like we still have…
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Quiet Hours
City lights glistenthrough the gold ofnight’s first kiss. And the bartender looks outthrough the twilight veil of gilded rain,wondering to himselfwhether the weather will let up,or if now is the best it will ever be. Poem and photography by Hazel J. Hall.Previously published by The Sunlight Press.
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DIY Pancreas
The hook weaves through the yarn, and, in it, I see the breaking, flowing loops of a body. Being diabetic is just like making a sweater. The needles come in and out of the skin, the stomach, the soft parts of a person you wish to keep tender. The hook does one chain stitch, then…
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I see my reflection in the orange juice cup
The porch talk is weighed down by crows& we look at the sun hoping it looks back.The eggs are scrambled & the dogcatches the scraps. I’m so sickof going through the motions.Same breakfast, same porch talk.I want to make orange juice by milkingstars. Space should be an ocean& tidal pools should be filled withoranges &…
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“Is anyone listening?”
My hands find their way onto the spaces between the piano keys. Even when the amnesia takes me over, I know, / I will still remember music. / I can’t picture where the notes laid on the lines, but I know every feeling in my fingers, where they seek to belong. I will still remember…
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The Shadow Cast by Gentleness
In the patter of city street puddles,I see the truth about chaos. In the center of everything, there is a light. A shining light.I see the truth: that a gentleness is also a longing, for then I glimpse a girl at a desk. I look into her while all at once lookinginto myself—I can only hopeat night she still…
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My agent asked for an updated author bio
This poem was written by a monster; this poet, too. A story of life when remembered by my mind would be an itemized list, which certainly tells a tale but not a very good one. I have dreams of another life. In between the joy of a memory, I pick apart my life and find…
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Bottom of the Mountain River
Today, you are a river otter. You slide into the stream from the slope of the shore, watching the silver shiners swim in every which way. They are fighting for their survival. But so are you. It’s dinner; you must hunt. You work until you catch enough to eat yourself, and then some extra to…
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Oceania: The Last Beach
Humanity had lessened since its peak of billions; selfishness proved to be as mortal as they were. Now there is only one beach. One final shore before the abyss of clouds. Sky void remnants of what no longer shines. A woman stands before the water. Her toes feel the sand. Plastic. It feels like plastic.…
Hazel J. Hall 