“Isla” and “In Your Care” - Two Original Poems

By Anatasia Jill

Isla

A palace of stomach is ground in her hands:

she is warm, cerise, full –

hips locked in a grin towards a burning sun

that dyes her pallid waters mantis green.

She drags her salty claws, pulling bone from spine,

spitting paragon shells to hold me in place

to read commandments in her tan –

our pale skin makes new land,

an island for the girls speaking in a enclaved ongue

with peninsula pink lips.

In Your Care (A Lullaby)

I sew fables into my sleeve --

damsel where human sinew should be --

easing myself from your consonants clinging to my feet.

I know not the verse you rubbed me with, 

just like sheets, good sheets, that leave legs sore with ice.

I know not where you came from;

the rain, maybe a storm.

But I rise, and you will never truly wake.

Your heart will sigh, but mine will beat

laying you down to a murmur of sleep.