wildscape. literary journal

Spenta Mainyu / Angra Mainyu
by Victoria Toma

Overseas, hiding 
in our bedroom	
horror: being naked at the public 
pool instead of wearing a ruffled 
swimsuit like all the other girls 
“these?” from your brother holding
up purple underwear this new 
embarrassment unexpressed 
summer’s before		
seven-year-old bony chest 
still would not spare the thought 
of being seen where other girls 
were covered by ruffled polyester
 
We were going through withdrawal in the public daylight 		
the world impossibly turning and we did not know 
how we were going to live 

We were heartbroken in not Belize but forgot why, 
             watching 
the not tanager in the not salt sweet air, waking up to 
a panic attack, the impact of the thing is impacting 
             not the thing itself 

We were crestfallen at the golden pyramids 
We were happy to be sad 	    next to something 
beautiful and permanent 

We were at the countryside giving birth 
spent the summer counting 
still-swimming fish in a full bathtub 		
We believed in failing   all 	 the 	way when it was still

In D.C, figures march around our obelisk, we would
like to say to be evident and not passed by
We are in Sheol, wandering eternally for another hit 
We wear a smirk strolling Connecticut Ave	
have something makes none of it matter 
have been to Heaven’s multifoliate rose 
all the hype is true 
			
In another era we would have been mystics 	
preferring dreams, epiphany, pain effortlessly 
healed do you believe our ascetic 
devotion to one nation under 

Our paradise against the basin of a sink 
             In the beginning there were two brothers

one good one bad Spenta Mainyu and Angra Mainyu 
fighting eternal war inside me in a public restroom 
force me back to life like Lazarus with Naloxone  

I think
I’d rather watch	
your fist 
barrel 
towards me
like a dove 

I write a line
and it calms me 

I push 
a needle
into my
skin and it 
calms me

Our march
against
MK-84’s
over 
disarmed 
children

about the author // Victoria Toma