On Chaos Theory, Or, When My Lil Homie Questions Destinism
Sometimes I’ll say, if you’re gonna wrestle, think then of kingdom, come Here: better than “if so,” is when
Or, if you’re gonna have hip dysplasia, ask the angel to bless you. Get gifted name after new name after new name
Then, I think again: how else does one reencounter the God question? In every fresh laundry fold In the bisected, triune brain. But even with these presuppositions, I find that any Big Knowing, without omnipotence, ultimately only gauges. I say to us both
Honey, it is probably a question wherein the space between offers no peace: when grief, a sinkhole the size of Texas, arrives, wide as she is deep as she is ominous as she is prepared to be excavated It is in quiet living, this fine metal detection, panning endless for gold- I can’t say shit On my better days, I have only ever considered it like this:
The cows in the field can graze wherever they want; but acres away, the field ends. There is, perhaps, a fence
Part 2
In the middle of night, when the rage of the systemically silenced, flat and dreamless and red
washed over me, I yelped back, nearing again, the slicing grip of this waking world
To find you, at my right hand Barely moved, already outstretched
Limbs unraveled lazily like a meandering of yarn, waiting to be knit into shape, perhaps mittens.
Before I could lose sleep to the soft yellow lamp glow, or my own scream, what it could have chosen to reveal,
I lurched my sternum at yours This swan dive into faith, etcetera etcetera
And you, nearly soundless, simply closed your arms. If I may self-report: this is my bright, and rare glass marble
You, my creek of rolling sound, canvas of stretched and stone-washed cotton
Alexus Erin is an American poet, performer and PhD candidate living in the UK. Her poetry has previously appeared in Potluck Magazine, The Melanin Collective, The Nervous Breakdown, The Audacity, American Society of Young Poets, God Is in the TV, LEVELER, Red Flag Poetry, Silk + Smoke, and a host of others. She is the author of two chapbooks: Two Birds, All Moon (Gap Riot Press, 2019) and St. John’s Wort (Animal Heart Press, 2019). She was the 2018 Poet Fellow of the Leopardi Writers Conference and a performer at Edinburgh Fringe Festival (2018).
Courtney Cook is an MFA candidate at the University of California, Riverside, and a graduate of the University of Michigan. An essayist, poet, and illustrator, Courtney’s work has been seen in The Rumpus, Hobart, Lunch Ticket, Split Lip Magazine, and Maudlin House, among others. Her illustrated memoir, THE WAY SHE FEELS, is forthcoming from Tin House Books in Summer 2021. When not creating, Courtney enjoys napping with her senior cat, Bertie.
