Poetry: Selections from Miro

The Angler Fish

a light
softly pulses invitation
from the gloom
towards hope, warmth
a new beginning, perhaps
want takes over
pulls at the chest
quickens the pulse– lean in
hypnotized, desire rules reason
brightness snuffs out sight
so monstrosity stays hidden
prey basks
but doom has jaws
light can’t expose
and teeth piercing vulnerability
are felt too late


sleep can’t chase the fist in my throat
ensnaring what’s left of my peace
and gaze is fixed on my doom
playing out over and over on the ceiling.
this is not my skin.
dread is the marrow in my bones and breath
does not come easy.
morning must be faced again
and i seek the courage to rise
from the layers of unease
that suffocate me.

Winter I

nothing remains
but clear sharp air
occupying space between trees’ branches
neurons searching for connection

Winter II

i will walk outside
in the blue of a January morning
and lay belly down in the dead
grass and leaves
put my ear to the ground
and listen to the sound of life
gone to sleep for a little while
i will inhale the smell of frozen dirt
and decay not yet finished and be still
for a little while
so that my heart can hibernate
and I can absorb wisdom
from the universe that will thaw
under the warmth of me

Miro is a poet based in NYC. Her work has previously been published in Modern Renaissance, Space City Underground, Sledgehammer Lit Mag, and The Blood Moon Journal. Her debut collection of poetry, Ebb and Flow, was published with Read or Green Books in 2021. When Miro isn’t putting words on the page, you can find her studying JavaScript or eyebrow deep in a book.


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