No Respect for Great Machinery
by Forrest Evans

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
You don’t have to tell me, I heard it
when your mouth opened and grasped.
I felt you, too, wanted more of ‘this’ and the night.

I gave you a few inches and you wanted miles
of a forest you did not earn, or learn anything from.
Maybe it’s too late or I have oversimplified your feelings again,
but I’m tryin’ to enjoy the better vibrations, too.

Tonight’s the night, the moon is right
when she entered Forrest and had no clue.
Burning loud, leaves and the branches were still dripping
from the rain, or confusion you sparked and danced for.

You made it rain and pour for days until
you could not step into the same river, twice.
It felt like a desert wasteland until you realized it
was the same woman you used to follow rivers with.

What will it take to show you I am present
or willing to wait for you— or believe so?
A woman without intentions or someone to answer to—
the danger, and spells they cast with their looks.

Forrest Evans is a published poet and librarian. Much of her work can be read in The Lavender Review, Carnival Literary Magazine, and The Apogee Journal. A military brat and raised in the Bible belt, Evans has returned to the south— where she writes, and fights for under education and gender inequality.

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About barkingsycamores 183 Articles
Barking Sycamores is a literary journal entirely edited and operated by queer neurodivergent people of color. We publish poetry, artwork, short fiction (beginning with Issue 3), creative nonfiction (beginning with Issue 8), and hybrid genre work (beginning with Issue 9) by emerging and established neurodivergent writers as well as essays on neurodiversity and literature and book reviews (beginning with Issue 10).

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