My grandma said in the Depression in the Depression they’d wear to death. I am familiar less, squandered like backs and necks showers, finding mostly poor substitutes and more underway, here too the way you say a word And even then couldn’t name it, what we feel pressing hot cups of coffee to your cold chest,
showing me how we Ginger Ayla (she/her) is a writer and poet who lives in Denver. She’s a grantwriter by day and also volunteers as Editor-in-Chief of The Poetry Lab’s Resource Center. She has a bachelor’s degree in English Lit from the University of Wisconsin-Madison and her poetry has appeared in Ghost City Review, Sky Island Journal, and elsewhere. Image: newtraderu.com Check out HFR’s book catalog, publicity list, submission manager, and buy merch from our Spring store. Follow us on Instagram and YouTube. Disclosure: HFR is an affiliate of Bookshop.org and we will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase. Sales from Bookshop.org help support independent bookstores and small presses.
they ate specks of marrow
from the bone,
out every man-made material to deterioration,
so determined they were to love things
with the economics of diminishing,
have added more until it became
of chickens. I’ve long wondered
about the power of well-timed
for dwindling resources. Here too
we know thirst in our dirt
I’ve siphoned the sap, wanted more
than can be had, indulged
until it becomes
nonsense. Spat back the saccharin.
deprived of when we feel
deprived. But I’ve watched you
make do. There’s a way
to live in harmony but I don’t
know it.
Heavy Feather Review 