magic lives low
in the back of the head a place where lovers touch
try to split open
see there are diamonds inside a small cave
here religion whispers like sadness
leaks into the hour
you blow smoke under the lip of
a cup watch the spider shudder
in a past life you were
a ballerina or maybe a warrior
something driven
by starvation & patience I
can tell by your body never to trust anything with so much horizon behind the eyes
I know this place well this is where I am
alone this is where I carry you too deep
✶✶✶✶
Kristin Macintyre holds an MFA in poetry from Colorado State University. Her work has been published in, or is forthcoming from, Mud Season Review, Timber, Sugar House Review, and elsewhere. She is a 2019 Pushcart Prize nominee and serves as an associate editor at Colorado Review. When she is not writing, she teaches freshman composition and drinks coffee in her small garden.
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