Showcase | 010

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The main focus of The-Asterismos is to celebrate and provide exposure for your excellent literature deviations. Each Sunday, I will be taking the time to feature a number of outstanding pieces submitted to the group during the past week. I encourage you to browse through the work below! Each deviant featured is very worthy of your support.


xsuch an infinitesimal amount
of forgotten language
found only in shuddering touch
breaking waves or
lapping tides beneath
your fingertips
stronger than the fleeting gaze
you can’t hold
that moment between stolen
mugged and beaten glances
when both crash as last
to intersect as we should
fishermanI am a fisherman-
all roaring waves
and rush of sea salt
beating seagull wings
and a tongue carved from
rough driftwood
My hands break levees
and my breath births dams
the taste of chilly morns
still melt on the roof of my
mouth like I never wished
for anything besides the smack
of sodden rubber boots and
the scars from entangled
hunks of ivory nets
the sea has not
forgotten my voice-
I can hear them
whispering
when the wooden floorboards
crackle like hurricane bruises
from water laden saunters
through land sunk libraries
it has been a forever
since I held a dream
caught between my fingertips
and the gentle rock of a
boat and foamy froth on
my lips
but this new trip I have embarked upon
carries more clanking hooks 
than screeching sinkers
yet- my line has not changed-
I am a fisherman and the sea
does not
forget who its children are.

Smoke-stacked LungsLighting her cigarette, Mara watched the smoke trail up into the sky and block the blue the storm clouds couldn’t reach. She sucked in the unfiltered ash, closed her eyes, and marveled at the warmth that traveled down into her chest. The ash held her closer than anyone in the city had. She smiled, cracking open her eyes, but all that greeted her was wind blowing out the embers of her cigarette as tar slithered down her throat. She coughed, crushing the cigarette on the dashboard. She started her black Ford’s ignition, and watched the exhaust lingering around the car before the wind carried it away. With goose bumps, Mara sped onto the icy road and  remembered how her husband had once mentioned that California was warmer than Washington. LegsRazor in one hand,
perched like a cramped flamingo
under the showerhead.
Oklahoma, where the wind came and swept you awayThe wind is sweeping down the plains, wheezing through the aching, battered homestead I yearned for. Amidst forever grass and azure oblivion, you eroded me more than wind ever could; reduced to crystalline rubble, you brushed me off into the carmine clay-dust beneath you and fled, leaving naught but unfillable footprints on unstable ground.
I know I can't build sand castles with these glassy silicon shards, but still I smother them with silt-ridden adhesive and pulverize them into a new shape--a form of me a mirror would admire for a Picasso. Mayhaps an artist's eye will find beauty here someday, but until then I will shelter from rain and locusts and seek a new self in all this titian-tinged glue.

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See you next week for Showcase 011!
- Jessie
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