Aiyana Masla is the author of the chapbook Stone Fruit (Bottlecap Press, 2020). Her poems have appeared in magazines such as West Trestle Review, Vagabond City Poetry, Rogue Agent Journal, Illuminations, Impossible Task, and in other collections both in print and online. Currently based in New York City, she is a queer interdisciplinary artist and anti-bias educator, born in August. For more of her work: www.AiyanaMasla.com

*Green was simultaneously published in Roi Fainéant Press last month.







01.  Green



green began the foggiest dawn,
new sun
on dew
where honey was every
morning for a thank you,
after a loose dress. For the
edge &
thinking no!
no day is waisted
blood
hands in the morning
bruised, tea from roots & slowly
I’ve come to show you
my dug up
entropy, always
days that touched,
an exposed, ferny unfurl,
that small honey,
sat here in
so grass
in front,
mouth
putting on dew
cricket green
spruce I remember
so still
gentleness
I remember the groundbloom of trout lilies






















long lashes
or just legs
two legs
blink, rub together,
just my two legs, hairy, furred
I grow hair, still,
I am needled — le hand’s vein,
resilience, about an hour
our just a little
kicking tender
blanketed, as time swelled, as evening
loosened, wings spluttering, lifted
healing at the time of a buzz of peepers
time taking it’s august
then night. If there is joy
swept by
a clean grief — it was those leaf wings,
& never was my fault. A week now I
the softest moss, wrapped
round my own face & sat
in the same
prayer tree
sun, dark
a ceremony then like on the page
about joy as
in it. Even
gentleness
returning over life.

























02.   Returned



hemlock sap
honeydew
moonriver
this wetted
green, again.
Hey,
I can learn

imperfect holiness.
I can learn this

dappled afternoon,
& we, well enough
to stand
long legged

at the familiar
wooded entrance,

I have never been
so thankful.