Offering

After Gbenga Adesina


I give you my thunder, a horse
without a name, a wound
like a lighthouse.
I give you the wobbly knob
of my soul, the turmoil
in my purse, my inadequate word.
I give you a sky that tastes like fever,
the forest stitched with smoke,
my little saltine heart.
I give you the blue island
of my crimes, the empty coffers,
a mouth full of pennies.
I give you the moon as a plot
hole, stars like shrapnel,
my twilight of ruin.
I am a sorry witch
who burns like evidence.
I give you my spine
made of matchsticks.

---

listen

---

Alina Kalontarov is an educator, poet, and amateur photographer from New York. She collaborates on the editorial teams of various publications and is a Pushcart and Best of the Net nominee with work that can be found or is forthcoming in The Threepenny Review, ONLY POEMS, Sky Island Journal, Gather, Thimble, Sand Hills, and elsewhere.