Jessica Coville

Whispers across nine mirrors 

First whisper               |           The first is an echo of rosemary

                                                the memory of you I want to burn

                                                the memory I never want to let go

                                                I invoke a scar that only I can see

Second whisper           |           Your blood, your blood

                                                a small cut — soft cotton

                                                to dab it away

                                                I have what used to flow in you

                                                and your heart — echo your heart

                                                I invoke rhythm

Third whisper             |           Your eyes saw me, so much

                                                of me — more of me than

                                                I intended

                                                Those round jewels I pluck

                                                This sea glass that sees all the waves

                                                behind and before me

                                                Slow the ebb, slow the ebb

                                                still the sand

Fourth whisper           |           The ghosts you’ve been dragging behind you

                                                I can see them — can’t you?

                                                you bring a banquet of them

                                                to scare me

                                                I am not frightened

                                                They climb on this mirror and

                                                bring clouds

Fifth whisper               |           All the smoke I’ve inhaled

                                                or exhaled carries a prayer

                                                l blow cinnamon across this late sky

                                                this copal, heads of magi from desert

                                                I have crawled into a new mirror of night

Sixth whisper              |           This strand I roll three times

                                                and loop leg over arm

                                                tendril around stalks of lake grass

                                                grandmother’s lace through tiny spindles

                                                this is knot magic

                                                this is you floating, umbilical

Seventh whisper          |           You and I are on a mattress of bones

                                                it’s lean, comfortable, and noisy

                                                that’s us fighting fear, though

                                                the yelling of the last moments

                                                we made that imprint on the bones

Eighth whisper            |           Salt, frangipani, marigold —

                                                that’s the beginning

                                                like tenderness

                                                like the first time I watched you

                                                take your clothes off

                                                I stole the perfume bottle of that moment

Ninth whisper             |           I was a child when I wrote my

                                                first incantation

                                                and stuffed it in a bird’s mouth

                                                the bird flew to the underworld

                                                with my wish

                                                as will you

                                                as will you

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Jessica Coville is a writer living in Sonoma County, California. Originally from Whitefish, Montana, Jessica has written and edited for the entertainment, technology, and health care industries.