rachael crosbie



Sweet smoke scattered striae and thin
under the flinching chandelier, 
songs from 2000 splintering sound—I walk in
surveying this whisky tavern. Feel my body
settle into a velveteen sofa without someone.
I let things happen to me, let things become
because I’m a tourist in life. Static
jellyfishes through the room,
settling, quaking, settling. I walk out,
where everything is perfumed and stiff
by a shot of cold.


I vacationed here the last time I slept,
weathered by a burning pockmarked desert
as the wind runs wild with predatory sands.
I set up an umbrella and canvas chairs—a weak partition
to keep out the blazing corridors of sunlight,
sudden and wanting. Everything is sand or air,
except for the loose strands of canvas 
that glitch in the periphery, becoming
the absence of something. 
I fatten these dreams to make them docile,
but they only expose me.

3 February, 2021

Rachael Crosbie is the Editor-in-Chief and founder of the winnow magazine, the Poetry Editor for POCKETFIRE, and a poetry reader for Persephone's Daughters. She has a BA in English Literature, and she's working toward her MS in Publishing at NYUSPS. Her poetry is forthcoming or published in Averse Magazine, Feline Utopia Anthology, Emerge Literary Journal, Re-Side, Cobra Milk, and others. She has two chapbooks published or forthcoming in 2021, Swerve (ELJ Editions, Ltd.) and MIXTAPES (ELJ Editions, Ltd.) Above all, she loves re-watching She-Ra and The Princesses of Power and becoming a bed for cats.