Guide for the Modern Spellcaster, Briana Gonzalez

Do you know it was me – blue ink pen scribble slope of your name in triplets, kitchen repainted with candle light flicker? Do you know how the paper folded, right angle spins, then drenched in amber cling? Do you ever feel me roaming – catch the blur of my lips in your subconscious and recognize them? And when you wake, do you grasp the blue palm of dawn, clenched bed sheets and alarm clock blaring? Did you feel it when I slipped you in, breached surface, followed by nothing but cloying and finger licks? Could you hear me – just as honey is sweet, she’ll be for me; just as honey is sweet, she’ll be for me; just as honey is sweet, she’ll be for me; – twist of the jar lid, glass propped beside blue Tupperware? Can you remember the brushing of our skin as we walked through witching-hour Austin, pretending we didn’t? Can you feel pink wax melding scarlet bleeding the jar shut? When I shake this honeypot manifestation, do tremors run through the places we’ve met? No matter how you try, you’re helpless to thoughts of me, aren’t you?

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Briana Gonzalez is a Chicana/e queer poet and an MFA candidate at the University of Colorado Boulder. They have pieces published in Coffin Bell Journal, Southchild Lit, Green Ink Poetry, and The Raven Review. She plays tabletop roleplay games and drinks far too many Monsters. Check Briana out at bgwriting.org.