TWO POEMS

c culbertson

ISSUE TWELVE | SPRING 2019

The sunlight a bell

maddening     how     morning          resounds

 

feebly          tracing                              breaths

 

                   there there's

 

can almost hear     in the shit of it    

 

                   transmigration

 

feet     knocking     tall end     of mattress

 

temperature           in the act     of a hallway   have         

 

to       drive            punch         the                 brake-line         

 

yellow           butterflies            60     mph

 

headlights     rupturing     the door jamb         mold    

 

splayed           across         blank fresco            immanent         

 

the                 caresses       are to be                 held

 

graceless the           fresh             darkness       aching always        

 

for                 relief                      for               what

 

a                   dry               sun            is to a    bell

 

body            that               is               mine

 

body           that               does           not    

 

    

                                                ring


 

From railing

disabuse the lens stemmed from eyes between fragments.

 

                      his his his

 

                      like petals wrung

 

alongside st. augustine grass cultivated then cut.    

 

the character rage might feel

        

                

                      were

                      morning a reproach

                      conjecture or aflame like dimples softly cracking loose

                      air air air. the space lightning


 

takes up. aflutter in gleans of salt circling                

 

                      mouth

 

c culbertson is a writer and artist whose work has appeared in BOMB-CYCLONE. They are from South Florida.

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