Carving words out of the air, twiddling 
my thumbs, grabbing the alphabet, seeking something 

true. Is it sleeping on the couch? They’re all asleep. 
The cat, the couch person, the neighbors. I’m awake. 

Sometimes I have to fall asleep 
in defense. Play dead to the searing 

air, how the earth thrums under my feet, cold currents 
of ocean, the gulf stream, how it’s changing the planet 

rerouting the next ice age as men desperately pour salt 
on the runways. Air travel impeded. It will all be impeded 

unless we can outsmart ourselves, stop the denouement 
of the century, bear the lies revealed that will break 

our collective hearts. We will grow new ones, laced with sutures 
strong at the seams. Who says hearts aren’t supposed to look like that? 

All patch-worked, a map creased and refolded, re-taped and pored over—
this endless fascinating territory of the heart. So I grab the alphabet, 

finger each shape, trace the ruched scarred skin of my life, focus on the page 
seek something 

true. 

Lisa Marguerite Mora

has won prizes for poetry and fiction, including a Blue Mountain Arts Poetry Prize, and First Place winner and Honorable Mention Micro Fiction for Dandelion Press. She was a semi-finalist for The Tom Howard/Margaret Reid Poetry Prize 2020. Her publications include Chiron Review, Rattle, Literary Mama, Public Poetry Series, California Quarterly, Cultural Weekly, Rebelle Society, and Serving House Journal, among others. Her prose and poetry have been nominated for Best of the Net as well as a Pushcart Prize. Shopping around a first novel, she has caught the attention of top agents.

Lisa conducts workshops and offers literary services. For details, see her website: https://www.lisamargueritemora.com

More on the Web: By, About, and Beyond

⚡ End of December, prose poem nominated for Best of the Net by Al-Khemia Poetica (19 March 2019)

⚡ How the Moon Came Roaring in Serving House Journal (Issue 17, Fall 2017)

⚡ The Poem in Blue Mountain Arts (Twelfth Poetry Contest)