Suffering in F Major
Taylor Franson-Thiel | Poetry, Winter 2024
I.
Flickering into the night like the stars,
like lightning bugs pretending to be
stars, like lightbulbs pretending to be
lightning bugs.
II.
They grabbed her,
gutting her wide.
III.
Cauterizing the oak of her body,
they nailed the first woman to the
front of their boat. Left her there
to guide them to places she’d never been.
The rays and waves competed to erode her.
IV.
For months she hung as water
washed away who she was before
all she knew was ocean and gull
and roped raw wrists, a burn mark
across her throat.
V.
She could sometimes remember
trying to catch flickers in her
palm, but she couldn’t quite
recall the taste or if she ever
succeeded.
VI.
She didn’t want to climb crests,
or suffer waves. She was a crest.
She was real lightning. All she asks now,
is that you remember her
as a beginning.
___________________________________________
Why is this piece your Trace Fossil?
“When the next great extinction happens and the next phase of intelligent life populates the earth, I want there to be as many poems and pieces of art as possible that show both how women have suffered and how they survived. If this poem is lucky enough to survive as a fossil, I hope future folk like it.”
Taylor Franson-Thiel is a writer from Utah, now based in Fairfax, Virginia. She received her Master’s in creative writing from Utah State University and is pursuing an MFA at George Mason University. Her writing frequently centers on playing as a Division One basketball player, the body, and mental health. Along with writing, she enjoys lifting heavy weights and reading fantastic books. You can find her on twitter @TaylorFranson.
Suffering in F Major
Taylor Franson-Thiel | Poetry, Winter 2024
I.
Flickering into the night like the stars,
like lightning bugs pretending to be
stars, like lightbulbs pretending to be
lightning bugs.
II.
They grabbed her,
gutting her wide.
III.
Cauterizing the oak of her body,
they nailed the first woman to the
front of their boat. Left her there
to guide them to places she’d never been.
The rays and waves competed to erode her.
IV.
For months she hung as water
washed away who she was before
all she knew was ocean and gull
and roped raw wrists, a burn mark
across her throat.
V.
She could sometimes remember
trying to catch flickers in her
palm, but she couldn’t quite
recall the taste or if she ever
succeeded.
VI.
She didn’t want to climb crests,
or suffer waves. She was a crest.
She was real lightning. All she asks now,
is that you remember her
as a beginning.
________________________________________________________________________
Why is this piece your Trace Fossil?
“When the next great extinction happens and the next phase of intelligent life populates the earth, I want there to be as many poems and pieces of art as possible that show both how women have suffered and how they survived. If this poem is lucky enough to survive as a fossil, I hope future folk like it.”
Taylor Franson-Thiel is a writer from Utah, now based in Fairfax, Virginia. She received her Master’s in creative writing from Utah State University and is pursuing an MFA at George Mason University. Her writing frequently centers on playing as a Division One basketball player, the body, and mental health. Along with writing, she enjoys lifting heavy weights and reading fantastic books. You can find her on twitter @TaylorFranson.