Alyx Chandler
learning to leave
peels back a part of yourself
like a woodpecker holing trees
I growl of rot
of honeycrisp apples
too many for me to eat
the blunt edge of autumn shadowing me
a core of sweet
I drink juice from a carton
skin apples in the evening
forget my face
there’s wellness in anchoring to a place
or so they tell me
***
Alyx Chandler is a writer from the South who received her MFA in poetry at the University of Montana, where she taught composition and poetry. She is a publicist for Poetry Northwest, a reader for Electric Literature and former poetry editor for CutBank. Her poetry can be found or is forthcoming in Cordella Magazine, Greensboro Review, SWWIM, Anatolios Magazine and elsewhere. Read more at alyxchandler.com.