Meghan Grupposo
butter spirals, & so do storms; the north the moon, the south the sun

we are what you seek 
smooth sheen 
rain drop slide, broad leaf
your inner rhythm matches “we are” and we know
we know these white flowers house the moon 
while the exhibitionist sun does its thing
a little cool, a little cool memory in heat
a small memory in churn 
churned air coming 
a water pick me up
a hard wind smack back
coming in off the coast
the moon high with a binge and purge habit just behind the sun 
the edge
coming in off the world’s end, churned by someone else’s hand
top spin, spiralized, wrought 

churning is hard when you’re too small for the apparatus
this handle of land is too small for this thing 
the tired hand stops, stares at its blisters
coming in sideways, sliding out stray-ways

lead-blanket napped heat
too hot for gravity’s flies 
heat, an upturned pile of books
get under its weighed down calm
sky turned grey 
dingy cotton batting
a little protection
a little what is sought
the sky a ground to root in 
the It is over there
over there with memory with gut seizing with roof tearing with others 
over           there

guilt here
wandering beneath a basement of old dried books
false autumn cool and that smoke grey sky
guilt stepping one gold boot in front of the other 
heavy that the moon will notice

we know what you seek is cool
we know what you seek is inland and valleyed and moss and brick
the sun over there
we know you self-identify with the smell 
of wood smoke from its chimney

Meghan Grupposo is a poet, gardener, certified sommelier, dance teacher, and choreographer with a BFA in Dance from The Juilliard School. She lives in NYC with her husband, son, and two cats.