To Lichens & At the Korean Market | by Taylor Brunson

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.