a poem by Stephanie Sears

Aroundus the bedtime tale of a village

roofthatched and combed

bysprig fencing,

theparting of a path sprinkled

forpunctilious cotton feet

turningthe ruff heads

ofBonzai peonies

inthe sharpened dusk

ofblack and white celluloid,

etchedwith nostalgia

of arecapitulated past

declaringpolite defeat

whilethe frothing wave

of areturning tide unfurls,

wistfulbanner

onthe night’s samite breath.

Wesit bare-minded

indeadly black

by abrook faking a cascade

underthe eyeball of the moon

projectinga mess of trees

clawedand toothed

toguard contemplation.

Weslip into absence and

mutualirrelevance,

confusingourselves

witha perpetuity

bybeauty bound:

frogsto the rustling stream,

crowshatched by shadow,

leavesbreaking spring’s shield,

shiveron a glimpse of insight.

Asmall crystal space

incubatingbetween the lungs

hasbegun to dissolve

thelast shreds of piety.

Ascintillation blurs boundaries.

Astone’s throw from an epicenter

asclose as fear

ofblanking out. But then

weresorb into pebbles

throwingourselves back

withhard twin plops

Into water’s footnote.

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