Plain Sight
There be no sea monsters here.
Spirits obtain.
Where I am is inevitable furnace.
Elsewhere, whoever
directs stratum, silvers, exoskeletons.
Anywhere I look closer
motes a spiderwork. The lie
in dust or dew. Of half-notes
or grackles on wire.
Sorrows accrue. Mildew means
we live. I have never been afraid
of nothing. Absence makes
sleep, whereas body creases
sheets. Devil down the hall stands
our hair on end. At night
an accomplished whistler
cracks through the drone
that song never written.
Where wordless, lost.
Is this good? Is this disappearing?
1:11
one liest, to
weave her meal
three says:
no body saw
and we won't
tell. cochineal
crushed shell
red, diest.
widow. riddle.
the luck
of one tangled
in her silks.
it does
take two.
the starved.
the food.
Slant
crooked / fucked
♦
deceive / relive
♦
relief / bereaved
♦
felt / left
♦
adored / read
♦
hard / heart
♦
cold / reeled
♦
liar / sure
♦
promise / facile
♦
love / leave
Paula Mendoza's work has appeared in Prelude, Bat City Review, Parcel, Washington Square, and elsewhere. She is the essay editor for The Offing, assistant poetry editor for Newfound | Art and Place, and a reviewer for SCOUT. She lives and writes in Denton, Texas.