C.N.P Poetry 

  • Cathexis Northwest Press

Acreage; Reflection; Untitled

By: Stephanie Garon

Acreage


Right past Caleb’s cotton fields, dusty

White clouds turn auburn soil into candy canes.

Clifford Hubbard’s grilling shoulder,

frying hush puppies luring me their way.

I’m traversing a shuck and hull hexagon maze

Midsummer giants lurking, unfurling sage striped leaves round my waist

Forcing a do-si-do that flings

me like a fly fisherman casting line towards the horizon.

Refusing to exhale, my cadence returns

Left right

Left right

Left [      ]right

Left [      ]right

Left

Pebbles shape the road’s gully to the Lord’s river laces,

And I follow so many that my path resembles a Mondrian terrain map from above,

Ninety degree angles of compartmentalization tied pretty.

My hopscotch board catapults past contour lines,

Archival framework like Pompeii ruins,

Where ash laden figurines rest.

Sterile untouched unclaimed reclaimed

Land,

Reckoned syrup skies outrunning my words

My waist curving

Like the corner spiderweb arching in August air.

There’s the left hook of God’s elbow pointing

Home, but [       ]

And [       ] and all I see is

Acreage.



Reflection


Silver spigot reflects sweet potato pie curves

Morphed breasts that roll into marshmallow hips, no legs

Show after dried drips are wrapped terrycloth tight

Into this venetian replica poised to handle 

Heat like bbq coals still simmering, intensity 

That hums. 

Stronger than August cicadas marking decades past, one turn

Conflates sin to cosine, just a glance

Of the eyes because 

Lord knows it’s time for collard greens. 



Untitled


The 1:03 a.m.

reverberation of no sound

compounded with heaving rhythms pounding 

Motel Six shrug carpet – smelt burned cigarettes semen Mr. Clean

carpet 

low -- begging

low 

After each cough cracks silence,

Blackness seeps under the door, its heavy arms shifting 

to play with the streetlamp flicker.

Bands of chiaroscuro, like a television screen gone blank, cross 

the barren room with one wooden dresser, feeble bed framed

isolation like sweat between thighs, 

folds my body to the floor, dizzy under gravity’s 

demise.

Stephanie Garon received dual science degrees from Cornell University, then attended Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA). Her nature infused metal sculptures have been exhibited internationally in London, Columbia, and South Korea, as well as across the United States. Her writing, a critical aspect of her artistic process, has been published in international literary journals. She teaches at MICA to pay for pencils and steel.

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