special issue 1
// p o e t r y
Shared Language
by Jaqi Holland
Are you that grizzly
the ranger warned me about miles back,
stiff chestnut brushes bristling
when you hear me draw near?
Unable to wrest my eyes from yours,
dark amber, deep as dens,
your feet novelty slippers,
I wave my useless arms.
Two cubs, walnut brown,
tumble out from behind whitebark
pine, are quick-stilled by my scent,
the grizzly willing me not to see them,
willing them not to be seen.
But they’re furry magnets.
I look to them, then to her.
Mother, I try to convey.
I used to be one of those.
Would have killed for mine too.
Maybe we could sit awhile
and you can tell me about fear.
about the author // Jaqi Holland
| Jaqi Holland (she/her) is a poet and essayist from the North Shore of Massachusetts with work in Milk Press; Little by Little, the Bird Builds its Nest; The Christian Science Monitor, The Ekphrastic Review, and Humana Obscura. She holds an MA in Writing & Publishing from Emerson College. |
Instagram: @jaqi.holland
https://www.jaqiholland.com
wildscape. literary journal 