The bed was thus, the curtains were therefore.
The moon floated past the window frame
and appeared to be. Fans roared as softly as.
A blue light becoming, or a wind
unlike anything outside.
Or a memory of, but less than.
In other words, a fine dust settling on the dust ruffle.
Released from memory. Released into remembering.
Motor coach and reservoir, children and fools.
The pasture being itself. Midnight. Perfume.
Schopenhauer breathing into a paper bag.
Sequins, rutabaga, emerald hills.
Burj Khalifa and a feeling
that in a moment anything could.
That the clouds might.
4:00 p.m. Al Ain: what to say?
Or your voice, the risk of. And rebar.
Then traffic, rushing as if it could stop.
Sure it could.
The noise, the ticking. Noise,
noise, boom. You letting go
was unlike. You leaving
was nearly like.
Cindy King is the author of a book-length poetry collection, Zoonotic (2022), and two poetry chapbooks, Easy Street (2021) and Lesser Birds of Paradise (2022). Her latest chapbook, OhioChic, will be published in 2024. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Sun, Prairie Schooner, Gettysburg Review, Callaloo, The Threepenny Review, North American Review, Denver Quarterly, Cincinnati Review, and elsewhere. Cindy was born in Cleveland, Ohio and grew up swimming in the shadows of the hyperboloid cooling towers on the shores of Lake Erie. She is an associate professor of creative writing at Utah Tech University and faculty editor of The Southern Quill and Route 7 Review. She is an editorial assistant for Seneca Review. She also enjoys serving on the artistic board for the Blank Theatre in Hollywood, California and screens scripts for their Living Room Series. (Photo Credit: Tom Jungerberg)
Tuesday, 14 November 2023