SOMETHING LIKE MYTH
I did what he couldn’t. On the patio, I drew us over and over in chalk.
Long after he left, I signed the cards: Love, Heather & Tanner.
This labyrinth I inhabit—
sundrenched dreams, hospital hallways,
bleeding spots of grief, washing into
grey, his brain matter that could not fire fully.
Some faith: he knew something I didn’t.
His eyes floated to the sky, hid deep within his head.
Somewhere, in the center, everything not seen converges.
Together we filled a body. We belonged to the world and it was ours.
A POEM WRITTEN AFTER A THERAPY SESSION
A woman told me I had a white aura;
white is nothing to stain.
In this old room: fissured plaster, crystals, eucalyptus—
I’m told to imagine my wound.
It bulges behind the wall, nothing lovely.
I wash it with water. Not very heartbreaking.
I give it something it needs.
Tenderly, I pat soil over top. It swells
into a soft green. A healing
takes place in me, all around.
Some things come naturally, like silence or sickness.
Things that take up space in ways I cannot.
If something should grow,
I wish for camellias, pink like the pale sky at morning.
Heather Myers is from Altoona, Pennsylvania. She is currently pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing at West Virginia University. She is the recipient of a 2018 AWP intro award, and her work has appeared or is forthcoming inPuerto Del Sol, Up the Staircase Quarterly and Luna Luna Magazine. Her website is heathervmyers.com.