Wild Echoes: In Remembrance Of Freesias

~ a contrapuntal in four parts ~

I have fenced off the space that selfinhabitedbetween four corners of wood and steel

in phantom limb-scars of barkbutknotted eyes of concentric stria are

still watching

ringing chain-linked earsandgaping muzzles in voiceless metal

listening in

beneath clutches of parch-packed earthclingroots that once wanted to surface-stem

dirt now strangled dry

the only green herescattered corpse lengthin ash-sprung anemones of weeds

evidence of what survivedwar and what was lostwilling to forget danger the costs

of fear aftershocks of firebreathing on wet skinburning tsunamis in my gut

each wastedwindblown wisheroding the body

terrain of littered glass and fabricfragments heldoverhead grazing against thighs

waking me to their bark-sungin witnessmounting each other to reach me

then now on this land wherenothing grows butgraves looking for their sisters

buried selves rebirth flesh inthese freesiasof indigo yellow and magenta

mouths openfacing fragrant sky


Celeste Colarič-Gonzales smiles in front of door to deck garden. A stained glass heart ornament hangs over the window panes, letting sunlight in.

Celeste Colarič-Gonzales (she/her) is a writer/artist/mother living in Oakland, CA on unceded Chochenyo Ohlone land. She is earning her MA in poetry and MFA in fiction at SFSU, as the recipient of several awards, including the Marcus Fellowship. When not writing or reading, she paints, does old school analog photography, or otherwise crafts. You can find her words+ in/forthcoming from NELLE Literary Journal, Woodcrest Magazine, The Ana and Transfer, where she has served as Poetry Editor and Editor-In-Chief.