ANY CRYSTAL CAN PURIFY YOU IF YOU ARE SUFFICIENTLY COMMITTED TO STABBING YOURSELF THROUGH THE HEART WITH IT

selenite splintering my lungs fibre-optic
or a wand of polished labradorite that refracts

my fractured ribcage a dozen shades of feldspar
glint oh dear I had forgot that slick jade egg

charged in distilled windowsill moonray for this ritual
I the jewel sucker swilling mouthfuls of tropical smoke

encrusting myself in a semiprecious geode
in the hopes that beauty could ever heal anything

these jagged stones with their accidental loveliness
made in hot mud for no-one’s eyes yet fetishized

into the sickness of the supply chain the miner’s sons
hunched underground scraping out tourmalines by hand

the middleman at the port town exchanging
a cup of rice for a rose quartz kilogram

sold by a peroxide wiccan at the travelling fair
with a promise that it would bring me love

and yet my heat-treated citrine loses its vibrance
in the glittish glare of direct sunshine

and the oily rainbow aura on the spirit cluster flakes off
as the treatment fades while I still alone and addicted

to new knowledge in my liquid crystal display
can finally scry fate from the oracle sheen

for every treasure on my mantelpiece
a child’s hands digging

 

 

Rebecca Hawkes is from a farm near Methven. She writes poems about flesh industries, human beastliness, and irrepressible weeds. Rebecca’s first chapbook ‘Softcore coldsores’ was published in 2019 in AUP New Poets 5. You can find her online at her vanity mirror rebeccahawkesart.com or in publications like Starling, Sport, Scum, and Stasis. She co-edits the journal Sweet Mammalian.