swamp magic
makayla terrell
it seems harder to understand the point of all of this when the feeling keeps returning as if it was
meant to be here with me all along—chipping away at me like the paint in my rundown
apartment, fading slowly and mold eating at the window where i watch the full moon bleed on.
once again, defeat makes her way toward me. crying is not enough to feel release so i turned
towards the selenite tower and sweet baby king cake plastic jesus on the windowsill to save me
from what i know is necessary for my own survival. i feel the salt on my palms as i close my
eyes and sing hail endymion hail muses and hail black aunties. hail spaghetti sundays hail
shotgun house blues and hail streets covered in cobble-stone trumpet traffic. hail the hoodoos
hail the jesters and hail the swamp magic fools. i summon moments that exist in places other
than what is in front of me but lucky me, there are ghosts that have found comfort in my
eagerness. they reside where magnolia midnight meditations are spoken in tongues, and i am a
broken mirror with three walls interconnected and brutal truth at the source. but there are shards
bigger than what is left, like consequences to my own ways of moving through rivers. i ask sweet
baby king cake plastic jesus to drown me in pontchartrain rain and send me to the gulf where the
spirits of desire dance in between catfish tails and imminent realms of the self. so maybe
somewhere in the upstreams, my self doubt is cleansed and is ready to belong as another entity.
right here is the alchemy—right here is where the being breaks contempt to regenerate into
something more meaningful for the sake of its own survival. like when the regret starts to sink
deep, i make a wish with the shame and wisdom crawls onto the earth. i do what i am told and
meet her at the core; i empty my hands and let nodal shifts send me on my way to a heaven only
accessible in the crevices of my unruly faith; my only flesh.
makayla terrell is a Black & Filipina poet integrating language between the metaphysical & the natural world.
Her poetry hopes for a ritualistic experience within these realms, creating a ceremonial space for the ancestral,
the revelations, and the omens. makayla is a Louisiana native currently residing in Portland, OR and is obtaining
an MFA in Creative Writing at Pacific Northwest College of Art. Many of her offerings can be found on her instagram
@the________fool.