Return, pt. III
I am
chaos,
furious thunder,
pinning you down to my soil,
wondering what will grow,
stretching you, your farthest tips,
furthermost points.
We align,
I aim to make you my best friend,
my home,
the jar that will house my electricity,
my spurts of fury and doubt and desire.
Keep the lid shut tightly.
Gaia
He asked me what I wanted,
then told me to lead the way.
I told myself that this was going to pass,
this flurry that kept me caught
in this awful mess of sweat and spindly coils
that wrapped around me and held
my surface, not my body.
I should have known that at the end of it,
when he wanted to give up after a few
technical difficulties,
that he didn’t deserve to be here.
I will swat the air clean of him,
hug the wind to me,
the familiar storm,
the electricity that gives me little
jolts
of hello and how are you and I miss you
with no previous prompt or prod,
pushing or begging.
I worried that he knew too much about me,
too much that was only worth giving to
the one
who helped me find myself.
He will leave and never come
back, and I will feel the sweet release
that unfurls over me as I’m welcomed
with open arms.
Rachael Matthews is a senior Creative Writing major at Stephen F. Austin State University.