prism
the canvas blinds
with radiant emptiness
when the heart
is a prism; pink
floods, harmonic rushes
of blood and a beat
she feels in quadrants,
one aortic chamber,
then another, affection’s
growth in symptoms
an alert to her brain
to seek treatment
what is a lie,
but the truth stolen
to be colonized
and assimilated
to a culture
of bacteria that sucks
sweetness to expel gas,
gradual growth of downward pressure
from unbreathable air
a guarantee of its
death
the truth was once
shoved at the base of her throat
before the molten rock
at her core had erupted,
before there was enough
(nitrogen, oxygen, carbon,
hydrogen, phosphorus,
sulfur, water vapor)
for speech, before
wind was strong enough
to carry the weight of love
wrapped in the weightlessness
of self-acceptance
it still struggles
and is alive.
Stevie Ambroise has been writing poetry since before she was double digits, and self-published her first book of poetry "Sophrosyne: A Shroud of Poetry" on Amazon in 2016. She's been published with Unlikely Stories, Boston Poetry Magazine, and Rigorous Magazine. She also plays guitar and sings, loves to go biking, and lose basketball games to small children at the Rec Center.