When You Go to Weigh my Heart by Taylor Marshall will you hear the salty flesh of crow in my mouth? Pinot Grigio and tilapia sitting cold and uneaten on the table: A peace offering rendered: undigested. Regretful, yet, I can taste, so clearly – Chalky ashes filling up my cheeks. My smile and yours, Buoyed / only by these marigold–en glasses and a kaleidoscope that the Desert Jackal holds between his hands. How many kilograms of scorched memory can one carry? I think, an endless pool.
Taylor Marshall is an emerging writer from Regina, Saskatchewan on Treaty 4 lands. Her work has appeared in Pinhole Poetry Press, Spring Magazine Vol.14, [S P A C E] Magazine, and Acta Victoriana Literary Journal. Her debut poetry chapbook, “Transits,” was self-published in 2024. Taylor’s writing often ruminates on mercurial possibilities of selfhood along with the accompanying internal and external metamorphoses reflective of grief, change, and rebirth.
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