Eros, and His Slinking Through the Winds

Tasha Jakush Issue: Section:

I lost my way one night in Switzerland- -
it was raining and freezing and I had no money
yet I clung to an e-mail during the darkest hours of night
and woke to beautiful birds,
walking along my breaths as I sat and watched an empty silver river.

I cried so much on trains
a woman wove embroidery dedicated to the beauty of emotions,
she watched me, nodding as she stitched.
I leaned on the window of Germany
“Comptine D’un Autre Ete: L’apres Midi”
on repeat as I gazed at a sunflower-swathed earth,
seeing nothing but yellow for miles.

I discovered writing when I first fell in love.
I became a fantastical feeler
I shed words all around me.

In Crete I constructed a detailed map of how to get to a secret beach- -
took an entire day, crouching at towers of stones,
examining the girth of certain olive groves,
describing a coral home.
My local kitty crept into my mosquito net each night,
he was my own for those weeks.

The heat had us creeping towards dangerous delerium one day in Italy,
and I fanned a woman for some time
with the sparse folds left of the paper,
she and I exchanging a facsimile of feelings in different languages.

Folded laundry flapped my face
clothesline so close to my window seat,
sipping tea and journaling,
sweetly smacked into Prague’s evening whistle.

I never really slept in the Netherlands,
during dawn I tried my hand at drawing- -
the libraries and homes from my rooftop vantage point
displaying the artcandy of the ages.

I offered my apples 5,000 feet up in Scotland,
watching what wind does.
I was at the height of myself,
the climax of all my birthday cakes existed this one summer.
Love made it easier to radiate and live on less.

No one sees the force coming
I think, as the cold flakes flutter onto my face,
melting upon contact with my cheeks aflame,
and I am surrounded by winter in New York.

All content © original author. If you feel there may have been a mistake, please contact us.