Poet
Aileen Bassis
Her pale
hair like a
dry wheat
grass curtain shudders,
a blue
vein sprouts through
her thin chest to her
heart as words
drop like layered rocks
hitting the ground and
breaking into crumbly bits
revealing secret gleams of brown
and red, green and even
clean streaks of milky
quartz and some
words shoot out
like a cue ball looking to
make a ricochet
shot thunk to the corner
pocket and other
words
float
in the air, almost
unmoving, held
for a breath beat
to float like
down from
a swallow
fallen from a
nest and almost
ready to fly.
published in the September 2013 issue of Gravel
Aileen Bassis
Her pale
hair like a
dry wheat
grass curtain shudders,
a blue
vein sprouts through
her thin chest to her
heart as words
drop like layered rocks
hitting the ground and
breaking into crumbly bits
revealing secret gleams of brown
and red, green and even
clean streaks of milky
quartz and some
words shoot out
like a cue ball looking to
make a ricochet
shot thunk to the corner
pocket and other
words
float
in the air, almost
unmoving, held
for a breath beat
to float like
down from
a swallow
fallen from a
nest and almost
ready to fly.
published in the September 2013 issue of Gravel
