Gale Marie Thompson

Solar Divide

for CC



whatever the form of the vessel


whatever makes you long and long


and covered with mirrors, everything half


ear-marked or smudged with citrus


tell me more about your inner side walls


whatever my glance at you, companion star


more southward, more delicate separation


you told me what to sing


I can promise you the singing happened


I move from a thing gone, embarrassed


by my own planking footfalls, my singing crossings


I watch floes from the edges dismembered


evidence that “light too is being stretched”


I am always awake, tired but alive


tubes pumping under the floor of my bedroom


hot letters inked with a calm


we stand no chance, do we


have you seen Jupiter lately


is how we talk to ourselves


here where the infinite


becomes its own container


in this I emerge too


for ACH and CC



These machinations had been steadfast and touching,


had been missing us for how long now? So I’m writing


them again to you, all that is eroded and riddled


by our valley full of tornadoes. Something we would call


upheaval in batches. The great blink between riverbeds.


I’m just assuming this cache of friendship, cheered-on


pancakes and surprise Carole King tunes on the ukulele.


These acres we’ve fixed, magnolias I’ve missed but counted


anyway. I am not that whale with the wrong song, carving


out some space between my bellow and someone else’s.


I can feel the word triggering happening. I can notice


a barge in the wind already becoming fond of us.


What now. I can doubt again and again. To forget you


I first need to remember you. I’m just carrying out


someone’s unrealistic expectations, why I couldn’t


be brave here why I’m starting to replace the purge


with screaming sunlight. We are the best family,


the strongest wooden prow. These bloody marys


have salt on the rim that I’ve never considered before.


You surround yourself with microwave facts and blind spots.


I am going to get this splinter out with a bulldozer.


GALE MARIE THOMPSON is the author of Soldier On (Tupelo Press, forthcoming) and the chapbooks Expeditions to the Polar Seas (Sixth Finch Books) and If You’re a Bear, I’m a Bear (H_NGM_N Books). Her work can be found in Best New Poets 2012, Sink Review, Denver Quarterly, Volt, Colorado Review, Guernica, and others. She is creator and editor of Jellyfish Magazine ( and lives, writes, teaches, and studies in Athens, GA.