2024
Issue 17
the embalming of an only child with a soulmate
Sydnie Howard
love is embroidered wherever you are
every time i sway swollen with words
i find myself in our childhood
reeling
reeling
reeling
like when the water flocked toward our wiry knees
in the ocean so many summers ago,
almost biblical in time,
full our stomachs were with grapes
unused for my mother’s wine
always shielding my face
from the ocean’s reeling anger
the sea that salted the earth of our body,
cold acupuncture on my tomato sunburn
but you ate the waves i cowered from
with your unbraced smile
and pale arms flailing in ritual with the wind
what i feared you embraced, always, colored purple,
spoiled and full,
ribs tinging with serendipitous pain
on your bedroom floor, too,
walls a rapturous neon green
among cracker crumbs and
sour gummy whales beached on
the rug by your full-mooned yoga ball,
math equations unsolved,
english essays unwritten,
and when i dreamt through time at night
i dreamt in abstracts
saturn would house us,
cats would live forever,
parents would love each other,
death would die alone,
love would embalm us.
Sydnie A. Howard is a sophomore Creative Writing major at Susquehanna University with minors in English and Women & Gender studies from Emmaus, Pennsylvania. On campus, she is the Assistant Poetry Editor for RiverCraft, a student ambassador, SGA’s Media Liaison, and a member of Zeta Tau Alpha-Iota Nu. She is passionate about Margaret Atwood novels, hand-written poetry, and raving over her favorite films and two cats. She finds peace in writing about childhood embedded with biblical references, fiction about how love manifests in death, and rereading the classics for inspiration. Her work has also appeared in RiverCraft, Prometheus Dreaming, Moondial Magazine, and Gilded Lily Press.