[POETRY]
[01/16/26]
Nothing Is Hidden
Two Poems by Lili Newberry
Mother
So there I was, dragging
my digital persona through the forest,
which today
was all aspens. Like oh my god
how am I supposed to eat
what I can't speak to.
There is nothing
in this world that can't talk back.
And you expect me
to line my can with a fresh bag?
Separation is a fallacy.
You know that. Can't a girl
litter any more? Well anyway
I heard screaming, bald young
raw screaming. I heard
a hole. Like why are you
in a hole, precious transparent youth?
Like do you want some food?
I put my ear to the hole, which today
was a beak in a canal in an aspen. I
had to stand on a stump.
I said I don't have any food, I have this
camera I've been dragging around,
yeah I know it's not
a mouth, but what's the difference OK
really? A shadow is a shadow
is a mother is a grunt. Any kind
of message blocks the sun. Eat up,
baby thing. There are sentences
to line up before nightfall.
Sanctuary
The AC rolls like gravel
I slip a coin
into the transmission
thinking nobody would see
but above me
the barred owl
rearranges her feathers—forked slips of paper
And inside the mouth
A quiet like wool
A hungry
Unfillable cup
A red string tied
to the end of a red
string.
Every time I look back
I look back
to a different face.
The reason that nothing is hidden
is that there is no suggestion of silence.
Could the watcher teach me
to be reversible? A pouch
of falling sand? The silver moon rattles in the sky
A wish / A hard dollar.
What is the meaning
of horse hair in the garden?
Of rubber you can tear
like bread? Talons push like needy tendrils
through my floorboards.
No song is sad.
Movement is a container
whirring with pleasure
Many things breathe and eat
My machine is warmer
than the creature in the tree
A jangle in my pocket
like birdseed
A lesson is of consequence.
I pack my things and coax
the engine awake.
There is no room
for me here—dust curdles
and stirs in the street.
It’s cold. I still
have a number to call.