Margin: Exploring Modern Magical Realism


It was this way, in the heart of the forest:
green sea deep and light,
leaves like rippling water,
a steady heartbeat of silence.

It was this way, a mere tickle,
an itching of the scalp and suddenly
every movement becomes a rustle
as tufts of hair unfurl

to leaf, a flourish of jade moustache
sprouting and curling from raw, nude
skin. My legs and fingers swollen wood,
ridged and gray as sycamore bark.

It was like this, a panic of birds
sorting through my hair,
animals seeking shelter in knot holes,
joints sealing and sap running like blood.

It was like this, precipitous,
life bursting forth in unexpected places,
roots seeking hold and feeding
capillaries, the taste of moss and humus
filling my mouth like song,

and not like this, like nothing else at all.

m a u r e e n   m c q u e r r y
r i c h l a n d ,   w a s h i n g t o n

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Rev'd 2006/03/09