PC: Lexi Jude
when I visited my mother I was haunted by new life
bred in the skull covered in red eyed rats left out
since last last Halloween, these little eyed lifelings
peering through plastic ocular sockets, or the jumper
hovering on the walkway, cannot find its nest, please
do not touch me. The next next day a bird flew inside
could not perch on the bleached walls, made a plunge
for the fan, wanting to become busted feathers too
got trapped in a dark bathroom for hours, waiting
to breathe, clung to frame, cornered until body
smothered with towel, two living hands making
a pouch to carry you out of rat house, where they
chew under doors to taste your sweets, their gnaw
marks the same manner of nails to the insides of
escape that is my own mode of living hell, making
wings out of stolen newspapers and barbed wire
and heading for the window
Super Blue Blood Moon
At the trifecta luna I was in a
depressive awakeness, inside the
house and not realizing a once in a
lifetime or so cosmic event was transpiring,
missing it no less, and sleeping my afternoons away.
My bed is both prison and solace,
both stranger and intimate other.
I touch my computer more than I touch other people.
It should be left off that way, but it never bends to me,
just slowly deteriorates and makes it harder to delete what
I don’t want to be seen, buttons stuck or just forgetting their
purpose along the way.
New tidings but the same old habits and
habitat dissipating soon, appearing more
monstrous than it really is, and still the eclipse
asks me to shed part of sustaining wine waves,
these veined rivers making the moon the color of
a mad planet, and a few more centuries will have to pass
before you ever forget being here too.
About the Author - Nikkin Rader
Nikkin Rader writes and breathes and tries to find a reason to keep going. She is in between states and jobs and continues to wander. Her works can be found in Pussy Magic, Occulum, the Cauldron Anthology, Anti-Heroin Chic, the Mojave Heart Review, and other notable places.