Coughing Up Tonsil Stones
It wasn’t until I met you
that I saw trees can have wings.
I had been looking for
those of pigeons or sparrows
or maybe albatrosses,
but not twin spinning blades.
I have seen them twist down
like the rotors of helicopters
we once used to watch
on black and white television,
enough for a century of Novembers.
If common trees grow wings, yearly,
what other things are possible?
Can dogs can be pilots,
or children be lottery tickets?
I have watched a swimming pool
sizzle like a skillet on a wood-fired
camp stove in the Sierra.
At the end my mother was
as silent as a library,
the kind they won’t let you
borrow reference books from.
I will fight anyone who says
I don’t regret my unpaid fines.
What Was Sanctuary
The place of your birth is not safe.
The place where you were raised is not safe.
The place where you came of age is not safe.
The place that you thought was home is not safe.
When things deteriorate, and they will,
you will know it, in the middle of it
or as onlooker. Neither midday sun
nor darkness will give you shelter.
You may be required to give
more than you have.
You may need to lie, to take a life,
to give a life, all without thinking.
Revealing your heart may result in
that being used against you.
What this is is a machine that runs
until someone makes it stop.
Your face is already on file.
Your fingerprint is your identification.
Your body is asset and liability.
Your empathy erodes rapidly.
Richard Magahiz tries to live an ordered life in harmony with all things natural and created but one that follows unexpected paths. He’s spent much of his time wrangling computers as a day job but now when he’s not making music he is writing speculative and mainstream poems. This he has written for over twenty years, and has received nominations for Rhysling, Dwarf Stars, Pushcart, and Best of the Web awards. His chapbook collection The Reducing Flame was published in 2025. His website is at https://zeroatthebone.us/.
The Marbled Sigh 