Alexandria Wyckoff
poetry
Ancestral Rings
My grandfather places
practiced hands against
rough cherry, the color
rich like maple syrup.
The block connects
to lathe, wood spins
as if it were Earth.
Blade engaged, the sharp
edge emits wooden
confetti onto the floor,
leaking the smell
of a log cabin. A cube
transforms; curved edges
overlooking an interior
hollowed out and ready
to dry. Sandpaper wears
fingertips and exterior,
softening both for my
young palms. Varnish flows
over exposed wood grain,
gold and bronze shimmers
under single bulbs, reflects
in his wire-rimmed glasses.
My grandfather gives me
a piece of himself,
solidified, into
the layers of a bowl.
Tidal Melody
The song queues up
and drowns me in symphony,
bends minutes into hours
with each note trickling
into my eardrums. The chorus
rushes into my chest, soaks
my ribs in chords that seep
into my heart, each beat splashes
against fingers and toes.
The outro crashes, shatters my spine,
musical fluid leaking into carpet fiber.
I collect the shards of my shell and hit replay.
Astronaut and the Theory of Life
The wriggling bundle/human is placed in my arms and I am petrified, with all the synonyms in between leaching into my shaking/soothing adolescent hands as the toddler grins a gap-toothed smile, unaware of my fear of hurting them or the growing anxiety of what having a child means to me. Adolescents/adults do not always care/wish for kids, and this thread for me stretched into high school/college, this idea that I should not/would not have a child of my own. They were as foreign as life on distant planets; my atmosphere/personality was not equipped to sustain life. However, life can be found in the most impossible of spaces/places and when a baby is handed to me now my hands are sure and my mouth turns up in a hesitant smile/grimace but the terror lurks in the depths/cracks of my chest waiting for the moment the idea of a child becomes less a far-fetched dream/nightmare and more an expedition to a planet lost/found in the unknown.
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Thank you for making yourself so vulnerable and for being willing to share that vulnerability.