July 2, 2012 Verse Daily
Web Weekly Feature

Denial Machine

Out my rented window, traffic worries
its one black stitch; a train hums
third-story floorboards into dream, moon abandoning sea
to newborn stillness. Trench and tide pool
entire. Within-your-reach, even the shyest shells
flicker-tease. Indigo
to pearl, ivory spirals, bows
of abalone rain: beauty hinged on tender bodies

ripped away clean. Surface was always
meant for passing. We raid the deep
to believe in stay, what I clasp
in your gifted ring, fisting my branded hand
better to glitter
the darkness forward.

Printed from Cerise Press:

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