Hope in Halos by Airea Johnson


Hope in Halos
by Airea Johnson

The universe isn’t out to get me,
I’m living by superstition & signs.

If I planted myself in the street
traffic wouldn’t stop.

My brain is all Sorry,
Snakes & Ladders—

Everything is a game
or something simulated;

I keep doing the same things,
but I don’t have the answers.

How am I supposed to be anything
other than a murder of crows & chalklines?

I thought if I plucked my heart
it would be a pitless cherry 

or a Red Hot stuck 
on some dude’s finger.

Now I know it’s Bazooka:
pink & sweet, nobody’s favorite. 

The mirror is always
a bloodshot moon.

The pillows memorized my face,
& I counted how many times

he lied without blinking.
Infatuation is a currency;

my heart is an empty well
someone tosses coins into 

& no matter how many wishes
skim the bottom, I’ll never know

which way is up.
I want to teach my heart

how to count cards
how to be so sure

I’m the one rigging
my odds, not tracing

lotto tickets or smoking
Camels in a parking lot

finding hope in halos.

Hear Airea Johnson recite her poem on the Viewless Wings Poetry Podcast:

Seven Poems / Seven Poets for the Viewless Wings Poetry Podcast Viewless Wings Poetry Podcast

Submit your polished poetry for the opportunity of being published on ViewlessWings.com and being interviewed on The Viewless Wings Poetry Podcast.

Airea Johnson is enchanted with the grief process, the idea of significance, and the freewill dilemma. Her writing career started in Saint Augustine, FL. There, she hosted open mics for the Flagler College English Department and was an editor for FLARE: The Flagler Review. She works as an editor for Cathexis Northwest Press. After spending two decades in the south, she resides in Portland, OR with her red tabby Henry. Her poems appear in Third Wednesday Magazine, Oyster River Pages, Lucky Jefferson, and others.

Instagram: @tristateairea and @candidreads

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