In the end, everything dies.
The mold, the spoil,
the mushrooms rising
from damp wood.
All around us the house caves in;
fading rays of sun
illuminate the decay,
and we breathe deep
the rot. Our bodies grow
twice their size
before we start to disappear,
before the fungi take root
and all that’s left
is life.
Cailey Johanna Thiessen (she/her) grew up between Mexico and the United States. She writes in English and Spanish and sometimes a mix of the two. In addition to writing poems, she works as a translator and is an editor and founder of Last Leaves Magazine. She released her debut chapbook Wilder this year, and her poems have been published in 8 Poems, Willard and Maple, Cecile’s Writers, Hispanecdotes, and more. When she’s not working with poetry, you might find her doing embroidery, walking her Frenchie Earl, or eating really good food with her husband.
south broadway press 