2 Poems

The Extent of My Reasoning

The last time I met you

in the valley there were mosquitoes

behind your eyes,

ants firing under your skin.

I was fiddling with the hoop

in my left ear and turning up the heat

in your car like I belonged

in the passenger seat. Like my ability

to be nonchalant could release

the pressure. The way

a whole world can live inside

a car until you open

a door. And we could exist

in that world if I could stay

cool. How you could unfold

another worn blanket of I wish we could

underneath me and I’d unpack

the picnic basket of my body.

Another woman preparing you

a feast. My heart offering

its pear to your teeth.

Failing at Non-attachment

The cicadas in September are not

as thick as they were

in July. The ones left

                        sound desperate—

their charm lured

away by autumn’s promise

to relieve the heat. They shake

harder their maracas.

Longing arches its back

over the bamboo.

I push myself up

into wheel—urdhva dhanurasana—

discontent to settle

                for bridge,   inhale the tremble

of my elbows, strain

to hold the pose at least as long

as I could this time

last year.          Trying to relax

my jaw, I catch myself inside

the thought: summer is my favorite

clinch around everything

that may follow the fall.

Lana Matthews Sain is a recent MFA graduate from the Sewanee School of Letters and a native of Middle Tennessee. Her work has most recently appeared in Shō Poetry Journal and Gleam Journal.