the last day of january

Such a berry fragrant and kind of vibrant shadow
Morose and tired, growing green copper mold
Veins like fanned out rainbows above candles
Burning fires and fires and fires and I’m still so tired

Anchored and then light
One from inside and the other from out

I’m thinking about iguanas falling from trees
Thinking about the way they thaw
Hours later
If not butchered before
Turned to skinned, battered meat

I’m thinking about an elephant’s nose and then a giraffe’s neck
I’m thinking about them, the lengths
The thick visual stench of it all
Existing with these freaks
Somehow smaller and feeling much more

I’d like to climb that trunk
To hop up a neck and fall like an iguana
Sit for a bit
Sit until it hits

Oh, I can feel that impact
I’m not frozen like I’m cold blooded
Because I’m quite warm blooded
In a simple way

My innate human temps keeping me pumping
I’ve tried to quench that need for going on and yet
My non-lizard heart
Inserted by a true thief
Taken from another
Put into me
Keeps a beat
Against a will

I’m back up a nose and then, spotted neck
Hanging with those sad, cold lizards
Invasive and overlooking
Thinking, maybe I’ll stay up here a bit longer

Learn something more about not being so warm
Before, again, I let go
Or fall
With a lack of many kinds of things inside of me
Except a heavy weight
It all might be the same

Sarah Bex Rice


Sarah Bex Rice is a media archivist, also dabbling in experimental filmmaking, writing, music and pretty much all things that go well with a good beer. She tries to achieve everyday living that promotes the resurgence of analog enjoyment as well as the importance of exploring and remixing our own memories.

© 2020