dervish; wolf 4
by Melissa Leto
Melissa Leto, skull in bloom, digital photograph, 2024. Courtesy of the artist.
dervish; wolf
feeling of the woman in the woods
thought of killing father
lived in her body
her skull on a plate
in a dusty cottage
the roots growing through two eye holes
into Triarch
a wild azure coat copper claws
elixir of moss once upon a
go fuck yourself devour
possibility
let the body wolf
let the body of a wolf come out
of the body of a woman
you know the smell all the better
cut through centuries into the marmalade
of them
Dervish could smell it on her
triarch
cypress
hallowed roots gnarling the face of
a cliff until spinning into stairs
leading their bodies to mother body
scent of ocean fur blood
walls alive
branches could weave
bioluminescent blinking of fireflies lacing
her walls
infused with the humidity of their
bodies magenta sun swirling salt
could be a fever a dream
Faa’s head in Dervish’s lap
eyes snap open Dervish fades
to vines ursa major
coma berenices what is safe?
a place to become
unbecome alchemize.
Melissa Leto, annointed by sap, digital photograph, 2024.
nepenthes
slip and drown don’t get too close
it’ll be your desire scent of honey
sweat grass blood so warm
you close your eyes around wanting
you fall in to prism
cocooned during the filtration process
let the body fall out of its namings
imagine the symbiosis
all we ever needed to become
was ourselves
through the body of a plant
growing into the body of Triarch
suctioned like snails
the world was not fully burning down.
there was still time.
hemlock; rabbits
the first rope was braided by the branches
of Triarch from the original hemlock
buffet for the rabbits came before us
ate their way through the forest
to a plate in a cottage
for a girl what? can’t you
believe in a collective sacrifice
for the body of a girl?
it was happening throughout
what used to be cottages
saplings sprouting up under window sills
for someone like Faa then rabbits
and then she would stroke them
hands through fur
nothing soft as fingers forking rabbit fur
until they were ready
for the stewing pot
;rope
left for Faa who knew immediately
what to do with the pull of it
a girl like that you’d have to be stupid
not to smell the wolf not to see
them prism the way the vines slid
through their hands Triarch braided
hemlock into rope for a girl in a fever
a dream maybe she became wolf
maybe came in from the woods
with a skull in their mouth
knew how many knots
how many diamonds
didn’t need anyone else’s hands
once she realized could suspend there
butterfly harness moon tie
eyes snap open dissolve
ursa major
Melissa Leto, pulling vines, digital photograph, 2024. Courtesy of the artist.
INT. TRIARCH. NIGHT
the vines of Triarch brighter than Boötes Lynx O —
diamonds glowing and swelling imprints lime imprints aqua royal
collar breast the knotted spine salved
DERVISH
it’s almost autumn
FAA
it’s barely summer
DERVISH
i’m taking away from story
space
FAA
i can be done with story
DERVISH
neither of us can be done.
you know that. you’re tied to triarch.
you know better than to want the salt of my body
more than the ropes of our hands
FAA
what is better than?
DERVISH
where do we savor?
FAA
open your mouth
DERVISH
hold out your hands
prism
the room might as well be a terrarium
the way light refracts off their bodies
how their shadows woman and wolf
and water and snap and other
how easy it is for the shadow
to admire the prism’s refraction
hasn’t anyone ever felt that for you?
entranced by your fragmentation?
desire beyond body through body
look. what it does. to our bodies.
you never forget the first time
unzip break frame
have you ever felt like that?
climbing ropes or braids until
coma berenices pooling memory out
dream
inside a cottage there is dust on the table and on the table is a plate
and on the plate is the head of a girl woman wolf other
skulled blooming from her eye holes are tree roots cypress
before her body was plated, braised
apricot orange mango mint salt bay leaf
alchemy of seasons hibiscus from shoulders, jasmine tendrilling her flanks
she thought of fucking the story in that way in that very bad way
bad as a wolf with a mouth could unhinge for desire
she was the skull and she was fucking the skull and you can stop reading now
if it’s too much—
her head was plated her body fragmented, parceled, around a table
her cunt was brined salt lemon juniper rose
her legs were open under the table
her cunt a cornucopia pouring blue jay feathers ursa major moss plums marigold
she wanted to stand up from the table take her head off the plate, her body too heavy
Melissa Leto, diving madness, digital photograph, 2024. Courtesy of the artist.
INT. TRIARCH. NIGHT
Dervish’s copper claws
lynx sirius draco
after their shadows stretch wave rope
Dervish takes off her claws
and honeycombs her fingers
infusion
she knows bees since first hive
each finger dipped in manuka
harvested for seasons centuries star memory of nourish
what was Faa supposed to do—
watching her lick the blood
from her hands
aldrovanda vesiculosa
Dervish’s wingspan holy trees
the first time Faa saw her alchemize
waterwheel those limbs
into seven whorls the speed
what land could never give her
but land knew to need her
she couldn’t root
well, the state of it all required
filtration through more mouths
than Nepenthes
than wolves
and rabbits
Dervish whirling the waterways
could snag an intruder
or filter the everlingering toxicity
from the rivers lakes oceans
what did you think would happen?
dolphins all of a sudden
once people off the streets—
don’t be insane.
dream
in another dream Faa had to choose herself over everyone even a child
if you can imagine the worst thing a woman can do is choose herself over a child
the entire world sinking, an island of them sinking, everyone running into sky
she saw what no one else could see: a great distance away, a red balloon, drifting
madness and fervor drove them into the water they could float on one another
they didn’t care whose stories sank knowing time revealed every bone
she only knew the promised sensation of reaching beyond what she could touch
like in other dreams, she had to decide before waking who was worth saving
herself herself themselves themselves
like in other dreams they had to decide before waking who was worth saving
herself themselves herself themselves
sweet alchemy you thought she’d sacrifice her body?
this is not the story you think it is in case you can’t see: there
is the fucking door. she found the highest point leapt from the cliffside for the balloon
could see a great shadow wheeling through the water as every human sound faded into sea
Melissa Leto, restoried by trees, digital photograph, 2024. Courtesy of the artist.
EXT. TRIARCH. BARELY MORNING
Dervish waterwheels up the stairs to Faa.
Faa opens her mouth and releases butterflies.
Dervish commands the position of Faa’s knees.
Faa says yes says please says bleeding says please more.
Dervish claws her like a wolf.
Faa crawls into her snap trap.
drawbridge of Dervish’s jaw releasing every knot.
Faa’s mouth to i’m sorry what do you need to witness them saying?
Dervish speechless.
Faa out of breath.
Dervish didn’t know what to do next.
Faa couldn’t bear being suspended.
FAA
there are too many stories pouring out at once
DERVISH
what are you scared of?
FAA
i think it’s obvious
faa’s smile: flint
DERVISH
everything on your plate
dervish’s mouth: opening
FAA
longest taste of us
beginning
you’re spinning let me steady you.
once upon a forest a girl wandered deep into the veil
of green led by the sound of rabbits following wing
spans of blue jays she was not bringing cake or wine
to a sick, feeble grandmother. her basket full of ropes
on her way to eat what you idiots call crone alive
she knew the path because she walked it barefoot and stopped
to taste the straw- berry ponderosas and lick the honey off
of rocks, her hands full of berries, of course her
tongue the taste of pie, rubbed herself with petals
every step of the way she sang a song went Dervish Dervish
a word spinning sugar along every wall of her body
whatever you want it to be: veil door portal
new story filling
hood
Dervish’s cape was made of ladybugs a swarm of them
almost hurt your eyes of course she doesn’t prism into ladybugs
she has to do everything? waterwheeling isn’t enough? do you know how hard it is
to spin and spin and spin and spin sometimes the pain of it needed release
sometimes hold out your hands palms up
sometimes ten more sometimes do not make a sound
scent iron honey elixir of her cunt swollen
your jaw will dislocate, i promise unless you wolf
you won’t find your way to her core unless you grow more mouths more teeth unless
the nectar of you
makes her lick her chops
unless she’s already reaching for you from across the page
Melissa Leto, under knotted realms, digital photograph, 2024. Courtesy of the artist.
EXT. TRIARCH. BARELY MORNING
altar of their bodies lax
all the offerings composted
Faa’s ritual: Dervish
Faa dips her tongue in apricot oil, calendula
tangerine honey twisted into every hair of
her. Dervish not suspended has pooled
from the frame an echo of cerulean
Faa infuses every imprint
every aqua royallemon diamond
imprint every swell every knot
dips her tongue
scrawls thank you thank you
all over Dervish’s body
scent of them cypress vulvic salt soil
infusing ropes
deepest bowl emerald seaglass metallic
first the tender leaves of cypress, pine
drizzled with spring’s harvest of honey from bees kissed plum blossoms
dahlia fields after candying the peonies gold dandelion wine, entire cup
leaves from fig apple oh honey
the parallels thank you thank you
a pine cone for every page a small throbbing
piece of time compacted sandstonebasalt lime
for every line, here blue tansy
here holiest body earth earth
pulse across pages bioluminescent connected alive
lay down here let me pour over you the rest
water water honey ropes
from my hands creamed vines infusing here
calling from every angle of forest in the rain song of black-throated
warblers crow violet-green swallows
their ringing every fiber here deep breath
spruce sandalwood grapefruit rose
mary salt from the sea
of Dervish’s mouth
petals from under Faa’s tongue
a sigh so deep
cores beginning
Melissa Leto, deepest bowl, digital photograph, 2024.
Melissa Leto makes art near the Salt River on Hohokam land in Arizona. Her/Their work has appeared in Bloody Funny Zine, Shrew Lit Magazine, Tom Maxedon’s Word! podcast, and Write On Downtown. Their wordmaking weaves joy, grief, and trauma while infusing the interconnectedness of alive things on planet earth with queer love in realms of hybridity. They have an MFA from Northern Arizona University, are the lead facilitator for literary arts non-profit Revisionary Arts, and an editor for Rinky Dink Press.