An interconnected family of supernovas burning bright in the night sky: take a moment, reach out—join us.
i fall down roan mountain, again
Adelina Rose Gowans
anyway, i get back up
while the trees, smelling
heavy of birth and crown
shyness, sway over us.
reluctantly press my
palms into bloodknees.
wish for scratch marks over
scar tissue: miracle feed.
overhead, the blackbirds
sweet talk blackbirds—
and my mother’s legs
turn/return limitless over
the bald. vessels of hope
x1,000 steps. she tells
me how mountain rain
never pulls its punches.
nonetheless, we brush
our knuckles against
rhododendron, and down
the trail a man on horse-
back is popping the top
off a beer bottle. like
every good mountain,
i’m slowly splitting
apart—hairline and
heavengrove inevitable.
still, we stop for granola
bars, fix our eyes up to
the cloud cover. behind
it, the first afternoon star
puts a splint on its knee.
About the Author
Adelina Rose Gowans grew up in rural South Carolina and is currently a freshman at the Savannah College of Art and Design studying writing and animation. A two-time Best of the Net nominee, her work has been recognized by the National YoungArts Foundation, Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, and the Poetry Society of England. She is published or forthcoming in over twenty literary journals, including Ambit Magazine, Barely South Review, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. More of her personal projects can be found on https://www.adelinarose.me/.