Poetry By Catherine Kyle

Ode to a Parallel Universe in Which We Are Animated by Centripetal Force

Once, seeking something to capture you,
I bowed my head at the feet of a priestess

wearing all blue in a desert. Her robe, flowing,
milky horizon. Melding with milky horizon.

I asked for a snare and she handed a vial. I wore
it around my neck. A choker, a ribbon chain.

Thrumming over my heart. Belief: a common theme
here. An ardent desire to bind to you, fastened around

my throat. As if a pounded rhythm: a female
guided by want. Days later we are dragging off

a bottle near the freeway. The shadows syruping walls
with headlights render you zoetrope. A man shifting

in and out. In and out of light. Glass bottle a fallen star,
amber liquid honey. I hold the vial out to you. I know

this is kid stuff, I say. But it’s potion. Potion to bind us
together. You exhale smoke and inhale vial. Zoetrope,

spinning, unknowable if stilled. Sequence of images,
fracturing, that add up to something beloved. Passing

headlights strobe your throat, jugular bobbing
with swallows. Belief: a common word for love, one

frequently interchanged. One attached to electrode,
that sings with illuminating volts, as if in praise.

Ode to a Parallel Universe in Which Two Young Ladies Jailbreak

We climb the tree to escape
the ground. Its verdant and

fetid decay. Its earthworms
squiggling, spaghetti meat

strands. The beetles that chomp
with pincers. Scavengers who

eat the dead. We were not intended
to know of the treehouse. We

in our petticoats. We in our pinafores.
We with our shined, round shoes.

But we do know now. We spied it
out the window. Waving its arms

like a tormented saint. Beckoning
through the mist. So our round shoes

tread over slippery grass, over dewy
caterpillars. Our small hands grip

the ladder planks. We ascend like
parfaits, like gumdrops. Skirts

pink petits fours. The wooden floor
is within sight, but we must not

disturb the hornets. Those who would
hunger for plums. Those who would

feast ceaselessly on their flesh if
awoken by foot on board. The hornets

are dozing, metallic wings folded.
The plums are all around. Hanging

like pale green uvulas waiting for license
to speak. We are waiting for license

to speak. These lace collars cloister
our words. We scale the tree and

unfasten each other’s. We shed the
pinafores. We stand in our bloomers

and camisoles. Barefooted rebel dolls.
The sky is lightening in the east. You

reach your hand out toward it. The tree
issues a massive groan. One thousand

hornets snap awake. Two thousand
webbed wings whir. But we are glint-

eyed. We are not afraid. Moss and leaves
shudder down to earth as treehouse

untangles from roost. It hovers, creaking
in the air, dragging snapping branches.

I gather as many green plums as I can
in the satchel of my shorn dress. You quietly

mouth an aubade, staring toward the sun.
The swarm is outraged, searing toward us.

Screaming, Get inside. You are not meant
for movement, for motion. You were made to

be eaten. You are ours to consume. You shake
your head. Steer toward the horizon. The

cirrus clouds sodden with violet. The swarm
falls away like livid gold dust as we slowly pick

up speed. We undo our ribbons, final vestiges
of domicile. Wind stirs, tousles our hair. 

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Catherine Kyle holds a Ph.D. in English from Western Michigan University. She teaches literature and composition at the College of Western Idaho and creative writing at The Cabin, a literary nonprofit. She is the author of the hybrid-genre collection Feral Domesticity (Robocup Press, 2014) and the poetry chapbooks Flotsam (Etched Press, 2015) and Gamer: A Role-Playing Poem (dancing girl press, 2015). She also helps run the Ghosts & Projectors poetry reading series. Her poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and graphic narratives have appeared in The Rumpus, Superstition Review, WomenArts Quarterly, and elsewhere. Her writing has been honored by the Idaho Commission on the Arts and other organizations. You can learn more about her at www.catherinebaileykyle.com. 

Winter is Coming: 2 Magical Books You'll Need for the Dark Times Ahead

BY LISA MARIE BASILE

My heart is aching like yours is. And I know that if I let myself, I'll fall into a well of perpetual worry, despair, resentment and anger. A little anger is OK. In small doses. See: my Facebook statuses circa November 2016. But life, as we know, can't always be led by those emotions; living in a state of constant negativity isn't healthy, and studies show that prolonged bouts of negative feelings and stress can lead to real health problems. 

One of the things I do that helps me counteract the mindfuck that is America is to create a space that nurtures creativity and provides a sense of sanity.

For me, that means surrounding myself with things that are good and beautiful — from photographs and perfume bottles to books and natural things. I've fallen madly in love two books that inspire me to tap into my magical side. 

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I received Hygge: The Danish Art of Happiness as a gift, which makes complete sense as far as I'm concerned — I'm definitely the kind of person you buy 'cheer up' books for.

Hygge (pronounced hue-gah): is all about cozying up with a book during a winter storm or lighting candles. The mythos says the Danes create the concept of hygge to get through brutal, dark winters. English doesn't quite have a word for the happiness attained from cozy, simple, healthy things in life, but the Danes do! The book doesn't just go into what hygge is all about or where it came from, it shows you how to be hygge — complete with recipes and decor tips. If you're in any way attracted to DIY, decor or ritual, this is the book for you. 

The same gift-giver above knows me pretty well, because I also received The Magpie & the Wardrobe: A Curiosity of Folklore, Magic & Spells. Yes, the cover is a bit hectic (and, if I'm honest, a tad childish), but the book itself is fantastic. Filled with prophetic rituals and potion how-tos, any one page lets you get lost for hours. 

So if you need any inspiration at all, I would so recommend these books. They're not just just gorgeous (they will look very pretty on your shelf!), they're useful. You can take it page by page - no need to read in order. 

Here are just a few examples of what you'll find inside:

The Magpie and the Wardrobe's November section — a little bit on the evil eye

From Hygge, on the magic of plants in your space

Hygge's look at winter rituals

The Magpie's bedtime rituals.  

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Lisa Marie Basile is the founding editor-in-chief of Luna Luna Magazine and moderator of its digital community. Her work has appeared in The Establishment, Bustle, Bust, Hello Giggles, Marie Claire, Good Housekeeping, Cosmopolitan and The Huffington Post, among other sites. She is the author of Apocryphal (Noctuary Press), war/lock (Hyacinth Girl Press), Andalucia (The Poetry Society of New York) and Triste (Dancing Girl Press). Her work can be found in PANK, the Tin House blog, The Nervous Breakdown, The Huffington Post, Best American Poetry, PEN American Center, The Atlas Review, and the Ampersand Review, among others. She has taught or spoken at Brooklyn Brainery, Columbia University, New York University and Emerson College. Lisa Marie Basile holds an MFA from The New School. @lisamariebasile