Two Poems by Cheyenne Hunt
In Proper Time, If We Do Not Give Up.
I went out
early in the morning
to plant my seeds.
The darkness was too comfortable,
The dew was still alive.
My seeds rested in my hand,
nestled in the warmth
given to them by the sweaty womb.
I tap-danced down the pre-plowed rows
of sod and dirt and mud
gently placing each seed in her final resting place;
saying a parting prayer over each,
a half-hearted eulogy,
only hoping that God saves their souls from
this bitter brown earth.
He beats the words into my skull
like it is a bone-and-blood based tablet.
“A man reaps what he sows”
but it is the end of summer
and nothing that I have planted has grown.
It is still dark.
My palms are still sweating.

The Queen of the Dead
We walk down the river
preparing for the fateful departure once again.
Her hand is resting in mine,
she tells me that she feels
free
without me.
I send her back to her dwelling
place, where she has begged me to release,
watching her walk away
until she reaches the safety of her mother’s
arms.
I turn my back to her joy with my
chains dragging between my legs.
I do not want to love like this.
I replace her empty seat
with Kerberos.
But I am not a man.
My best friend has abandoned me.
It is summertime and her scent
wafts across the oceans
to find its home in my nostrils.
I grow pomegranates in her place.
Wild carnations spring
from the land of the dead,
an eternal reminder of
my place.
I rest with my sins.
I await her return
to bring my world back under.
I do not want to love like this.
Cheyenne Hunt recently graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in Integrated Language Arts Education and Philosophy with plans to teach high school English and writing courses. A domestic violence survivor, Cheyenne has learned to channel her energy into writing and advocating for other battered women throughout Ohio. In her free time, Cheyenne often likes to travel to new places and drink a little too much coffee while she's there.
Image by Antti T. Nissinen, found on Flickr: https://flic.kr/p/dBMKGy