July Poetry Compilation

The Sunstroke Monthly Poetry Compilation is a collection of poetry submitted by Sunstroke readers and staff members. Take a seat, light a candle, grab a cup of tea and dive into the intricate words of our community.

By Gerselle Koh

“Damselfly” by Chloe Selby-Hearnden

Unlike butterflies, damselflies do not hide inside a cocoon to transform. Instead, they shed their skins several times as they grow, changing shape a little each time.
Nobody calls the Damselfly brave for being born incomplete.
For changing in starkness, out
in the open. The Butterfly,
as we know, has privacy. The cocoon
offers her safety, offers her darkness. It is well known
what goes on in there, under those prepubescent layers,
her body, that little blob
begins to change into something mature and
only when she is ready does she
have to come out,
all Safe and known and private. But the Damselfly
is different, not everyone knows what they go through to become
themselves. Some get away with passing
as dragonflies but they are not the same.

If one came to rest
in your sun room,

would you be offended by this difference?
Be offended by her because she lacked

privacy as she changed
into herself?
Because she lacked safety. Because her body is lesser-known.
Would you
call her a Dragonfly imposter?
If bravely in full beam, she un-shed
from the old, un-fitting version of herself. Her newer,
softer body exposed. Would you
say you never knew anything else like it? Never knew
any such change existed? Would you act
as though you’ve never before heard of
a metamorphosis?

“angelsightings” by Rhyan Stoned

Everywhere I go, there are angels.
It is the most profound pattern I’ve observed.

There are some patterns worth mentioning and some worth nothing.
This is one of the ones worth mentioning.
I’m not sure what differentiates the two,
but I know something’s worth mentioning when I want to keep it a secret.

Sometimes two memories remind me of each other but there’s nothing connecting them physically.
It’s only real in my mind.
Sometimes it’s a dream and a memory.
Or a dream and something happening in front of me.

Like someone clever is trying to show me something really important.

That’s how I’d describe fortune-telling.

Seeing multiple things and knowing they are connected.
The angels said so.
And before your mind could question the possibilities,
you’ve already filled in the blanks and it’s all been certified as truth by the council.

I take notes on how the blanks fall into place.
Some break into a million pieces, some fit only after they erode over time.
It’s a lot of information and I’m also trying to take notes on the council.

And that’s when they haunt me.

I don’t understand what they want from me because I’m too busy trying to be left alone.
I’m so busy that I’ve grown paranoid and began walking aimlessly.

Is anybody there?

I don’t know how much money I’ve got left on my Presto card and I’m an hour away from home.
I wore the wrong boots for this kind of character development.
Or maybe just the wrong socks.

There are these numbers everywhere I go, and it’s making me feel like I’ve got no privacy.
I think my phone is going to die soon.
I don’t mean to be petulant.
It’s just that my ankles are bleeding.

And the angels are after me.

“End of” by Jamie DeVelder

Blue sky looking down

On grass for the greenest month and

Now dry heat or the soaked shirt you hung up

At the end of the rain storm

And I believe in your hands

Drawing flowers across my ribs and I think

My eyes were closed for a second there

And I said look at this

I’ll cut your hair and see you in

The sunlight falling down through

Your open open windows

Please leave them

Even though it’s hot i promise the dark

Will take it down

I believe in the end of

An era where I feel so bad and I believe in

Maybe I won’t feel so bad if I

Learn to feel bad instead of run from it and

Breathe in the wrong things all summer

I make a deal with myself to go walking

Out in neighborhoods

With the blue in the water in my throat

Instead of whatever I learned before this I will

Play music and feel the ocean of

It here with me and let the tide up

End of pretending I’m not sank down

Into it whenever the heat drifts in and I’m alone

Or then again together

With you and there you are and

I won’t feel it until I feel it

“LIGHT AND LIFE” by Erifili Gounari

The day was orange
glistening and sailing on the river,
straight cuts on the water.
Light had solid form
and beauty an objective.
Brick and evening sun were one
and the people on the bridge
were on fire, inside the orange sun.

The next day was all white
the morning sun placed carefully
above a marble face.
The moment was so intimate
you had to get permission-
upon first glance your breath would catch
and with each detail even more
for marble white and solid
had ever so much soul.