To Lichens Teach me to press against what’s needed, where tree bark fissures, where stone sits cracked in shade, all for the sake of being anchored, of being touched. To know a way to love while flaking away from what holds you here, lingering anyway, scaly patina as fragile as I feel knowing the way, on a good night, the peppered moths crawl where you curl, let you hold them, keep them safe.
At the Korean Market You point to crabs struggling against each other, trapped in blue glass tanks that reflect us turning toward silvery fish, cradled in a bed of ice. Unblinking eyes flash from where they lay. Your touch is what warms me, slowly pulls me away. Your hand wants to remind me there is more to see than dead fish. * There is more to see than dead fish. Your hand wants to remind me what warms me, slowly pulls me away from where they lay; your touch is a bed of ice. Unblinking eyes flash toward silvery fish cradled in glass tanks that reflect us turning against each other. Trapped in blue, you point to crabs, struggling.
Beeper Peddle is a writer and healer living on the East Coast. She lives with her partner and their beloved soul puppy. Beeper writes about sorrows, lies, and deep loves. When you read her work, you will dip down into her heart and end up in all manner of body parts. Should you find yourself reflected in these words, it is merely coincidence; however, it does not surprise her you share the same heart. Find her at bethpeddle.com and @beeperpeddle on Twitter and Instagram
Taylor Brunson is a poet living in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Her work has recently been featured in Non.Plus Lit, perhappened, Dwelling Literary, Horse Egg Literary, and Dwelling Literary. She serves as an assistant poetry editor for Four Way Review and an assistant nonfiction editor for Nashville Review. Taylor can be found on Twitter @taylor_thefox.