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Alexis Pearson


Alexis tries to create an experience that is nearly tangible, something that is understood in the bones before the brain. She lives in Minnesota where it’s cold most of the year – perfect writing weather. She enjoys a good cup of coffee and will read just about anything but has an affinity for writing that feels like jumping into the deep end. She has been published in Upper Mississippi Harvest and Sonder Midwest, among others.

The spoon has lost its purpose in the ocean

The severed finger of god is cushioned
by the open coffin that gapes in fear stricken lust
before her weary spirit.
Red for the veins that
ripple in the presence of her rapid breath.
White for the vicissitude that shelters itself
in the creases of her eyelids.
The dust is taking
cover from the folds of her dress that
sweep across the floor in frenzied whips –
she’s going mad again.
The copper eyelashes of
shame flutter under the
desperate thirst
of the corners of the room that have gone
mad in the darkness –
she’s going mad again.
The wall
brushes her elbows in tenderness and she riddles her tongue
into oblivion while
her howls spill the devil’s hush
into the burning
Sand under her toes turn her feet to gold –
she’s going mad again.
She buttons and unbuttons the same button
on her dress, neglecting the other two buttons the buttons the buttons the
the fixation of this sorcery colludes in the treason of cowardliness
and she’s sorry about it, ripping at her
clothes with her teeth,
the only thing that makes her feel
close to him,
hoping her skin starts on fire
but this time with the flames.
A desperate lull comes to her with gentle palms held open.
Behold, your god,
righteous but unfair –
he is just as uncertain
as the rest of us.
Calm your truculent thoughts and divide today’s fire with tomorrow’s burn –
she’s going mad again.
There’s nothing we can do now.
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