Audrey Fatone
QUITTING IN THE FORM OF SALVELINUS FONTINALIS
I saw trout try to jump up stream over a waterfall
and fail again and again and yes, I can’t tell
if it was the same fish, brown scales behind splashes
slimy thing, naked and flopping in the air
but I like to think it was him and he kept trying
aimlessly used all his calories and crushed his fins on rocks
until he was exhausted, until maybe he started bleeding
please tell me he gave it everything his gills could handle
tell me he had guts and then tell me he gave it all up
tell me his white belly rose to the surface
for the river to finally take him back down to the lake
tell me the current finally took him back home
COMPOST
I’m thinking about
a poet who
was an archeologist
but mostly was a poet
who buried his verses
in the Utah desert
and yes, I also want
my body
to be used
after my death
what kind of mycelium
will colonize my eye sockets
and what type
of white maggots
will eat my skin
and what stories
will my bones
tell the scientists
I do not mean
to be graphic
but I want to go
being poetry yes
being dirt yes
I write because
I want to be used
after my death
I write because
I want to be loved
by the archeologists
but mostly the poets
who are the decomposers
always the decomposers
I’m thinking about
a poet who
was an archeologist
but mostly was a poet
who buried his verses
in the Utah desert
and yes, I also want
my body
to be used
after my death
what kind of mycelium
will colonize my eye sockets
and what type
of white maggots
will eat my skin
and what stories
will my bones
tell the scientists
I do not mean
to be graphic
but I want to go
being poetry yes
being dirt yes
I write because
I want to be used
after my death
I write because
I want to be loved
by the archeologists
but mostly the poets
who are the decomposers
always the decomposers
I WANT TO GO BACK TO UPSTATE NY WHERE SADNESS MAKES SENSE
After Danez Smith
it is February
my roommate is in love
and the redbuds are already blooming
I explain to Nora that
all the southern sun
is too much
winter is a built-in time
to be sad
I want to put my hands
against a cold steering
wheel and let my fingers go numb
I want a wind chill so
strong I have to run inside
from the parking spot
when I go to the grocery store
It’s just the tulips are here
and so are the warblers
and I’m sorry I just wasn’t ready
yet give me a few more months
please stop singing
in my oak tree
so you can fuck
before the end of March
so you can have children
who can fly by June
my sadness feels
disrespectful when
it’s not freezing rain
or when the trees are more
than naked buds
sometimes I miss
Syracuse when the snow
turned that gray color
and I never saw the sun
until May I think
she understands me better
does that make any sense?
please stop singing
please let me cry
in peace
—
Audrey Fatone currently resides in Raleigh, NC where she is in graduate school for Parks and Recreation. She writes about the intersections of queerness in the natural world and going to the woods as means for finding unconditional love and acceptance.