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the high priestess // a green agate you found on the beach - le francis

You believe. The petals of the universe

soft between your fingers as you ask

if he loves you not; worlds of pink & flutter

pooling around your feet as you sigh


with all the wistfulness of the wind as she

runs her fingers over the spine of the river.

Try not to imagine how his hands would move,

the way his lips would feel; try not to solve


for the angle of his shoulders, the slant

of his smile, half the volume of the shadow

he throws against a world that does not

quite match up to yours; constellations


of conversation & dreams to divine the light years

in between what you feel & the indifference you wish

you could claim, cold as the roots of the mountains

buried in the months before the thaw. Wish you could


run into the sea until every lash is crystal with salt, every inch

of your body becoming raw mineral & foam. Dissolve until

the screaming sea deafens you to the lie you won’t stop

telling yourself — I’ve never wanted anything but alone.


LE Francis (she/her) is a recovering arts journalist writing poetry & fiction of varying length from the rainshadow of the Washington Cascades. Find her online at nocturnical.com

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