j.g.lewis

Equal part dawn and dusk, a dash of 
diesel and tractor rust. A root of youth 
which once was mine, fleeting glimpse 
of that city’s skyline. One mouthful 
of rain, a belly full of fire, a hint of 
the envy I confused with desire. 
An ounce of misfortune to keep you 
on your toes, a whisper of the truth 
that few people know. Swift whiff of
autumn and its soothing earthy scent, 
seven crackling leaves heaven-sent. 
Two hearty dollops of acute curiosity, 
diluted by a cup of casual simplicity. 
The naïve blush of an unsure teenager 
standing only in her panties. A smile, 
hallelujah on bated breath and bended 
knees. A spade full of soil stolen from 
Indian land, with six blades of tall 
prairie grass from where Wal-Mart 
now stands. A layer of dust off the 
library stacks, nourishment from the 
lunches my mother packed. Clavicle of
the lover who should’ve known better, 
who gave only because she took, and 
only because I let her. Six droplets of
her blood add opportunity to the mix, 
ground into tongue of a lawyer, or liar, 
and his big bag of tricks. A shot of
Southern Comfort to combat any fear, 
and the shock of this Northern wind 
and my reality here. Off the lakeshore 
where I first learned to swim, a few 
grains of sand and a dead fish’s fin. 
Several of my obvious flaws tossed in 
for good measure, with the shadow of
the full Moon I’ve come to cherish 
and treasure. Three white tears to 
consecrate my intention, and a fourth 
for the secrets I neglected to mention. 
Wax of a turquoise-colored crayon to
bind it together, cured with the wave 
of an ancient Eagle feather. Not elixir, 
but a potion for dreams so she’ll know 
where I come from, and feel all I mean.

© 2017 j.g. lewis