Siphon the ink and I will pack my bags
and leave without you. Re-write the story
of sword fights, and of us smoking long drags
of life, close escapes, and forgotten glory.
Embellished tales of our near encounters
with blue-wild devils and red-wild wounds;
blocked by barricades of old reminders
that years, as knights, fall away all too soon.
But warring with the past never resolved
Novembers that bled into Decembers,
scarlet snow of which we’re never absolved;
Hail Marys we’d rather not remember.
But no retreat, I’ll implore; forget fear.
I’m unpacked, it’s revised, and you are here.
I Gave Up My Sword To The Black Hole
I cut open the sky with a vengeance.
It bled stars, clouds, and time—
but the black hole stole my sword,
blew stale cigarette smoke in my nose,
and snarled at me with a graveled tongue.
I was watered-down, decaffeinated,
I wanted only to recollect time.
I was stretched from the first century to the last.
The bleeding sky stretched out his hand,
shining silver, aching azure:
I touched his fingers, refilled my coffee cup with his stars,
and stitched the sky’s wound with a romance.
Lindsay Flanagan writes poetry, short stories, and fantasy novels in the times between working as an editor for Eschler Editing and acquiring manuscripts for Immortal Works Publishing. She earned her Master of Arts in English and Creative Writing and spent over a decade working in higher education before committing to the editor life. Her poetry and fiction have appeared in Mused Literary Review, Page & Spine Literary Magazine, Down in the Dirt Magazine, and more. When she’s not writing or editing, she’s chasing her favorite rock bands around the country or riding motorcycles with her husband. But the thing she loves the most is being a mom to her two brilliant and beautiful daughters. You can find her tweeting about writing at @LindsFlanagan.