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::
