Alluvium

Corinna Schulenburg

an attention:

• beats its wings within the cup of my hands
• just clicks on it why not
• no, is flicker, is flame, is
• sifting through the alluvium
• can almost remember where it left its
• roots. There are only so

many patterns:

• how the smoke goes up
• how the drinks go down
• small talk, small talk
• my orbiting mistakes, elliptical
• the lines on my hand, how you read them
• leaning closer, your breath
• a sacred geometry, saying

what I see:

• tectonic mitosis
• that is, cells like continental shelves
• that is, waters will rise
• that is, this line means a kind
• of love like an unbroken
• attention, breaking
• only to gather itself again, I mean
• I don’t remember what
• you said, my attention was

elsewhere:

• there is a green place
• and our whole lives
• are spent crossing it
• to get to

here:

Corinna Schulenburg (she/her) is a queer trans artist/activist committed to ensemble practice and social justice. She’s a mother, a playwright, a poet, and a Creative Partner of Flux Theatre Ensemble. Poems in: Arachne Press, Beaver Magazine, Capsule Stories, Lost Pilots, Long Con, LUPERCALIA Press, miniskirt magazine, Moist, Moonflake Press, Moss Puppy, Oroboro, Okay Donkey, SHIFT, The Shore, The Westchester Review, and more. https://corinnaschulenburg.com/writer/poet/ Twitter: @corinna_schu

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