lightning a long whip across the knuckle clenched sky
tar tattooed broken skin pressed in when lids shut tight the door
glacier left us thumbing on the left lurching side of fallopian highway forgotten fossils tossed over the shoulder salt on luck’s altar
fathersaurus extinct died in a rage bog & hell of slamming doors
fence never knew anything beyond your own splintered skin never knew between the planks chrysalis curled unfurled wings bleating in the dark
stump you stay here now petrified you could be nothing more than table
a place for keys & lilac sunglasses a place for a blue vase holding one red rose sailing
Lantern
there is always a bell a floating arrow
tulips open fog curtains the heart
hieroglyphs floating lanterns this trailing summer night
let the dead swim in a river of light
-- Rose Maria Woodson is in the MFA program at Northwestern University. She has been published in numerous journals including African American Review, Blossombones, Ariel XXIII, Paradigm, Melusine, Quantum Poetry Magazine, Foliate Oak, Wicked Alice, OVS Magazine and Magnolia: A Journal of Women’s Socially Engaged Literature, Volume II.