Two poems

By Rachel Turney

Happiness

But in the end, she is standing all alone, so deeply unsatisfied.

When he was learning Japanese, his eyes were always down on pages. His fingers gripping a pen. He was learning how to read and write in a way that would even further separate them.

As a child:

she was told, so very often, to be quiet. She talked too much, she laughed too loud. She always said  o n e   m o r e   w o r d.

Now:

she sits very still for hours, typing. She is recounting everything they told her. She is remembering everything and putting it into documents.

Though she cannot speak Japanese or German, like he can, she has learned to use the little bit of language she has to talk about the loneliness of knowing just one way to communicate - and barely being able to do that.

And in the end, she is standing all alone, so deeply unsatisfied.

Rotating Angled Mirrors aka My New Home

I know one place I won't end up: on my knees.

I won’t say please and thank you; I won’t go quietly.

Being good didn’t suit me and didn’t have the results

I was promised. Rip me like thin paper, melt me like

chocolate, find my very center and see me - symmetrical.

I’ll crawl into a kaleidoscope, taking on numerous lacerations.

I won’t even care because once I am there I will be surrounded

by beauty, hidden away from all this ugly world had to offer.

My life will be filled with loose colorful objects,

so much better than living in the world of man.

Rachel Turney, Ed.D. is an educator and artist located in Denver, Colorado. Rachel is on staff at Bare Back Magazine and is a reader for The Los Angeles Review. Her debut poetry book Record Player Life (the b-side) is available with The Poetry Lighthouse. 

Website: turneytalks.com