Silt Mouth

I dream of fire,
but
lately,
my dreams
are an ocean with no end.
Mind dragging the bottom,
sucking on silt.
Lost in the tangles
of mermaid hair and trident spears.

I want to sink,
one last time,
into the arms of my memory of you
and try to taste
what it was that I loved about you.
I want to bury my face
into the hollow of your neck and shoulder
the space that my
heart fit so well
and release
ululating cries and seas of unshed
mourning.

Come here, my love.
Let me remember you.

While I wait
to be swept away,
mute and stricken.
Trying to plug leaks in a dam that is collapsing
under the weight
of screams drowned before they could escape
my clenched teeth
my tightened fists.
White knuckling my
lack of control.

I now dream of waves
eroding my hopes
like mountains,
slowly,
with every
crash of the surf.

I want the fire back
I want to want again

Hunter Hall

Hunter Hall’s a ferocious poet seen late last century lurking black-hooded about the rainy streets of Seattle. Reading Deleuze&Guattari while slinging brutal mochas, channeling serpents and raw riot through her spoken-word performances, she now lurks somewhere in the Salish Sea, plotting revolution while baking for her children.