Some Kind of Light
by Meryem Yildiz
the first morning of spring, it isn’t, but it gives us a taste.
the plants are thirsty, stems languid. i mist them with vinegar by mistake. i wipe their leaves one by one, strokes long and generous. i could be swimming,
but i am bleeding scales.
my voice a muscle that gleans in and out of range.
i squeeze half a lemon into a glass of water and it spills in a ray of light on the counter.
in spring we cannot believe our eyes at the sun.
our blood coursing for another season to seize, for another season to cease.
helene, you are south of me, stroking your mother-in-law’s mottled skin.
your name—a shining light. a golden akhal-teke mare in the northeasternmost state, ushering the way.
her body is curled into a transient bed in the living room, the one you say your goodbyes in. there’s a rug underneath it. a magic kilim or a life raft, keeping her afloat.
in spring the water knows of us melting.
eau de rêve, you are dreamed about cascading and clear.
she lies under a gilded winter landscape, a figure sliding down a hill, a trail of two lines, mist on the penobscot river, the snow not yet thawing.
helene, you are holding her hand when she whispers, “let me die.”
i cannot hold water between my own palms. even tears plan their escape from the corner of my eyes, around the bones.
we make our own rivers.
at night, i rub rosehip oil on my face. deep orange, liquid gold, and i wonder which two lines i am anointing.
drowning never occurs to us in dreams.
helene, you are there when she pulls at her skin and says, “let me out of here.”
so much of this skin holding. holding blood, holding kin.
her fever covered in a quilt.
blood warming underneath the patchwork.
it isn’t so much chaos as it is pieces coming together, calling you daughter.
the white light and frigid weather in a mouth cheating for spring.
the lemon water, still, leaving a halo of the morning.
ABOUT THE CREATOR
Meryem Yildiz is a poet, translator and visual artist born and based in Tiohtià:ke (Montreal). She has participated in exhibits in Montreal, Ottawa, and Toronto, and has contributed to various multidisciplinary events, literary magazines, and other publications in Canada and abroad. She holds a BA in psychology from McGill University and a graduate diploma in translation from Concordia University. As a hybrid bird, she feels most at home in liminal spaces. @tristia on Twitter and Instagram.