I
sit here quietly.
Watch how you talk
with your hands,
the exodus of a whole people
in the blue pulse at your wrist.
Twin black irises take in light,
follow the trail of questions
taht lead the corners
of my mouth, my curiosity
about the care
with which you've creased
your white cotton shirt,
or the sculpture of your finger
prints, like the rings of a tree
waiting in a fellowship
of sky, ferns.
Holaday
Mason has written two novels. Her first chapbook, "Light Spilling
from its Own Cup," was published in 1999 by The Inevitable
Press. Working in Los Angeles with David Saint John, her poetry
has appeared in Spillway, Blue Satellite, Cider Press Review, the
Yalobusha Review, Interbang, Jitters, Atlantic Journal, 51% and
Echo 681 which she co-edited.
|