Rose Thorns Received: Step Beyond the Veil I love my rose: the woody perennial flower with jagged thorn. The petals bend, soak up some rain, the magenta tone. I found the flower in my hair; I floated on into the East. A train with all the treats. A carriage made for the dead. Zipping down tracks hidden in an ancient forest. The whistle to waltz on into the forgotten realm. A walk through the woods with a lantern in my hand. I have a staff, I have a crescent necklace, I speak with satyrs about platforms, train schedules, and connecting lines. Above me, the stars flummox as time ripples and particles wave. Black holes: the circumstances light can’t escape. Deep in the forest, near the uncharted blankets of wormholes, the rain, to help you pass the veil into the afterlife, to bend petals out of the way, the petals blocking the view. Board the next train. Go with those who’ll sleep all winter. Those lost, hungry souls. They’re ready for the perpetual hinterland. Butterfly soon. Final plank: my train—the caterpillar body on the tracks— where will it go? How will its body stretch on the tracks? Will it find wings as it hauls the dead, as it hauls into the ether?
Jennifer Silvey lives in the St. Louis area with her husband, their two cats, and their dog. She studied digital film for her bachelor’s and creative writing for her master’s. Both degrees were earned at Missouri State University in Springfield, MO. Her book Midnight Galleries is slated to be published through LCk Publishing.
Amethyst Review 