train to müchen
frail foliage // whipping // swirling eyes
your throat is dry
back home, //despair// drags itself from the dumpster, speaks of authority, becomes authority
here, the trees are authority. here, the trees are death. a barrage, a lining, one by one in a row
death marching, a marching of twigs
//despair// whirling as leaves crumble under iron grinding while you move too quickly
to notice
sitting against the stairs at neuschwanstein
king ludwig was killed for bricks
that is, he was murdered for building up his home
a fantastical wall around his head, his heart
is this what happens when you burrow deep to keep yourself safe?
does blood seep through solitude, through limestone
when you commit yourself to yourself?
a castle is prison of solace, a stone garden of gloom,
an ornate decoration of the body
to fool the world
of sereneness
to fool yourself
of safety
witch blood
used to craft
an opportunity
yesterday, i collected my blood in iron ladles
jarred it, sold it to your tender mouth
one bloodletting for a shard of jasper
a girl buys a vial of chance
from her i take experience
we weave together
as bitter winds
to melt the earth
witch blood, witch body, witch woman
handing out sweet milk and revenge
Ashley Miranda is a latinx poet from Chicago. Her work has been previously featured by the Denver Quarterly, Yes, Poetry, Rising Phoenix Review, OCCULUM, and Glass Poetry Press. She tweets impulsive poetry and other musings @dustwhispers. You can find more about her and her work at agirlaloof.com.