SurVision Magazine / Madison Zehmer

Without

Tonight / your breath ignites air.
I swallow cold and wait
for the rain to stop.
Frostbite bellies rumble away
snowpowder into rust / reassemble chest cavities
into craters / pulsing / like earthworms
born from fiery Arizona ash.

Let it burn slowly / or not at all.

You can freeze if you want / let your sour stomach
eat the sky / gray it into something dim.

Or you can smolder / like wood without name /
into something pure and empty / a ribcage without lungs.

Madison Zehmer is from North Carolina. Her work appears, or has been accepted for, Déraciné Magazine, Drunk Monkeys, Gone Lawn, LandLocked Magazine, Kanstellation Magazine, etc. She is editor of Mineral Lit Mag and a reader for Lily Poetry Review. Her first chapbook, Unhaunting, is forthcoming from Kelsay Books in 2021.

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An international online magazine that publishes Surrealist poetry in English. Issue Seven MADISON ZEHMER Without Tonight / your breath ignites air. I swallow cold and wait for the rain to stop. Frostbite bellies rumble away snowpowder into rust / reassemble chest cavities into craters / pulsing / like earthworms born from fiery Arizona ash. Let it burn slowly / or not at all. You can freeze if you want / let your sour stomach eat the sky / gray it into something dim. Or you can smolder / like wood without name / into something pure and empty / a ribcage without lungs. Madison Zehmer is from North Carolina. Her work appears, or has been accepted for, Déraciné Magazine, Drunk Monkeys, Gone Lawn, LandLocked Magazine, Kanstellation Magazine, etc. She is editor of Mineral Lit Mag and a reader for Lily Poetry Review. Her first chapbook, Unhaunting, is forthcoming from Kelsay Books in 2021.
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