Linda R. Quennec: Tidal

Spring '13 TOC

 

She breathes underwater.

Creatures with transfixed tropical glares

stir idle circles with internal viscosity

and murmur of mealtime dissatisfaction

 

Glass cases reduce

to fit: photos, medals—

what wasn't sold, discarded or

fought

over

 

Her storms rise and quell

with the aid of an infantile cadence

and something palm-slipped, unseen

while

 

rows of onlookers watch

the world walk through glass doors

and swim about as long as it can

before losing breath

 

And I wonder when

the mercury will rise

in my own

blood

 

 ::Next::

Not Enough Night
Not Enough Night
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