All Our Quiet Prayers

first / for the coyotes / that they may know hunger / &

therefore the slick chase / of satisfaction / next / for the

rabbits nesting / behind the garden / that they learn quickly /

how to burrow beneath fences / how to carry themselves /

through hedgerows / over barrels / past missteps & red-eyes

& property lines / that they grow / unbound / by any

restraints laid above the ground / for the ground / for the

green / green grass / green weeds between the cracks /

blooming / breaking / great blocks of cement / bandying

stress / great green toads bellowing in the dark / their desire

for life / their insistence upon it / in the face of flood / & sour

heat / talons on the wing / for the willows / & those left

weeping / by the roadside / soft bellies torn open / soft bodies

still bleeding / across barbed wire / like so much stained

glass / the crunch of bone underfoot / under fist / nail beaten

under hammer / split / & thrust behind paper eyelids / for

the agony of everything beginning / for the silence after

everything has ended / & finally / for the ghosts / that we all

may / someday / become / that when a shotgun sights

movement / about a shadowed corner / or standing stone /

the eyes can think only of hands / like moonflowers /

twisting & reaching / white scars against the night / that

every time a queer heart breaks / so does a window / so does

a door / so does every mirror / in every house / in all the

world / that the first break ripples / so far / no living thing is

left / untouched / & that the next time a coyote / hungry as

anything / howls / to the deepening sky / singing for blood /

it is joined / by a voice / by many voices / all of them

bodyless / & wild / & not one of them belongs to anyone

Note: This poem borrows its title from the song “The

Garden” by The Crane Wives)

Sweet-bitter / Without Remedy

(after "Someone in Some Future Time” by Natalie Wee)

Your little electric fan shudders against the heat.

From its perch, the plug-in radio croons static,

feather-soft & trembling

across the room. The girl beside you sleeps

deeply, her legs twist

-ing beneath thin cotton sheets while you & yours

ache with animal hunger. Barely a wisp

of skin & that hunger catches

the base of your spine, hook to tailbone. Edge

to knifepoint. Flint sparks nervous tinder

into flame.

You are old enough now to have learned

that this far south, the only safe place to keep a secret is

inside of you. Some words must be bitten

back, some gnashed on teeth

& swallowed whole. Love,

you do not say. Do you ever think, you do not

say. Would you please, you do not say. Silence

instead scorches your mouth,

hollows your throat like acid. Bleach below tide.

Kelp & sea-snakes tie knots along the shore of your ribs,

your pulse, mangled & thrashing

as if speared. Leaden.

Metamorphic. Terraformed terrain under

pressure from trachea & vertebrae, rib & stern

-um & ash – body turned

chimera in the pre-

dawn dark. Nature is rarely kind, & not

for the first time, you wish daylight

would not burn. You wish another’s

easy touch would not

leave you raw, gutted,

gasping for air. Dread the day some shining hero

thunders down on his marble

-white horse, rains hail & an icy sun onto

your earth, your secret garden, freezing

everything & everyone in his wake. These years,

this bed, the warmth of her body in it,

gone. The warmth in her

voice, gone. You & your bleating

heart, your terrible lips, your hands, once again

cold. Alone. Outside, clouds

shift. The moon sickles with traitorous

urgency. Casts shards of light across

her fluttering eyes. If there were ever a moment,

you think. Claw back. Think again. If there were

ever a moment to speak,

it would be now. Now, as the air slithers

heavy around your room, your bodies, winding down

before a storm. Now, with her moonstruck

cheeks tickled by the crackling strains

of blues & birdsong. Her breath sweet

& clinging, & your ruined mouth – a volcano,

breathing fire where desire

unburies itself.

ABOUT:

Kimberly Hall (she/her) is a queer and neurodivergent poet based in Southeast Texas. She holds degrees in psychology and behavioral science. Her debut poetry collection, Honey Locust, was published in December 2024 by hotpoet inc. Visit www.kimberly-hall.com/

EDITOR'S SONG PAIRING: umbrellar --- dua saleh