
Psychedelic
by Stephanie L. Harper
because suddenly you see
the whole universe is yet to be
uncovered you lift
the lid & add precisely one and a half
teaspoons of photons to the black vat
of atoms nattering themselves into a froth—
& because with the heat they generate
you could boil
an egg (such as say
the calcium-bound alimentary plasma
of an embryonic chicken
or even one of the kiln-fired variety
that you might decide to glaze
with a tie-dye motif from the invisible
light spectrum cajoling it to appear
indiscriminate)—
the dense infinity of which tricks
your brain into believing the secret
of simmeringin a wood-smoke-redolent
reduction of souls
(the one that tastes like honey is your very own)
now makes you this cobalt curl of steam
finally climbing into the identity you’ve been
fancying for all eternity:
a heart thrumming crimson
trumpet-flowers & indigo buntings
born knowing meaning
is forged in the vacuum
of a dragon’s breath
About the Author
Stephanie L. Harper holds an M.A. in German literature from the University of Wisconsin - Madison, and will begin studies in the M.F.A. in Creative Writing program at Butler University in the fall of 2019. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee, author of the chapbooks, *This Being Done* (Finishing Line Press) and *The Death's-Head's Testament* (Main Street Rag), and recently judged the 2019 AWP Intro Journals Prize in Poetry. Her poems appear in Slippery Elm, Isacoustic*, Panoply, Eclectica, Underfoot Poetry, Cathexis Northwest, and elsewhere.
Want to read more?
You can find Stephanie's website here.