Magic Carpet
By Dré Pontbriand
My mother doesn’t eat bread: she kneads and picks at her body’s soft rolls, cursing the mirror for not being a time machine. What good would going back in time do? She’s always been too much. It’s 1999. Mid-astronaut craze. My classmates are set on making their way into space; I’m thinking of ways to take up less. I’d get claustrophobic in the rocket ship, shatter a window, implode or freeze. Might be worth it though, to land on the ground more lightly—the weightlessness. Junior year: every morning, after every meal, before bed—I pray. Bare knees on a marble pew, a toilet bowl confessional. I take my socks off last, rip out my hair elastic. Lyle asks why I carry a sweater everywhere I go no matter the season. As a kid, I was the queen of snow angels in mid-December, Mom chasing me with scarf and mittens. The suggestion of a breeze freezes me in place, so I stay in bed. Showers aren’t for clearing away the day. There is no day, just softened shivers. My father says: Now you’ve done it, you’re a perfect weight. I eat leaves for every meal that isn’t breath and have a panic attack in the bathroom at Ivy’s dinner party. I don’t have to go outside to see stars. I just stand up. Freud said dreams are windows into our subconscious desires. I’m smoke blown through delicate lips. I lower the bong, envious as gaseous gold evanesces into the ether. There’s a silk carpet on the yacht I work on. We brush it to erase footprints even apparitions leave behind. When I walk, I don’t leave a trace. I did it. I’m nothing. I’m
Dré is a queer Mexican-French Canadian poet, cantadora, and alchemy enthusiast. She also writes in her mother tongues, Spanish and French. Her work has been published in Gnashing Teeth and Arte y Literatura Hispanocanadiense Anthology. She is currently working on her debut poetry collection.
10/16 / Poetry Reading and Conversation with visiting poet-in-residence Lisa Rhoades & local poet Yael Valencia Aldana / The BBar at The Betsy-South Beach, Miami Beach, FL / Live and Live-Streamed on Instagram Live/Facebook Live at @swwimmiami / 7-8:30 pm EST / Free
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Breathtaking. I am also a poet and a recovering anorexic. I felt this in my bones. Thank you.
Wow. This is stunning.