| Nic Sebastian |
song for my sonread by nic sebastian the shoulder blades under your skin are like the white thread moon in the afternoon sky over Naivasha when the ring doves descended on clapping wings to take seed from your hand and you were not afraid your upper lip is the high violin under bridges of Prague that drew all past all future sadness to the top of us and pulled us after still as if it the moon and we some spellbound tide how do I speak of the sweep of your eyelashes when you sleep they are like the opal reaching of the midday tide on the beach at Tunis when your brother buried you in the sand and your laughter fell popping about us like bright green carnival beads that you are not here is the raw black stench left by wildfire at Suva and the smoke and the dying birds  © Zuzanna Dolega proper to darknessread by nic sebastian you left me where the dark twists a small shoulder blade in one hand a set of eyelashes in the other they were sky-cut fresh like the silver chain of high laughter in my pocket and the squirming fairy bones under my arm in bending hoops of night I put them down carefully one by one I walked out and there I was again putting them down carefully one by one walking out carefully here I am again Nic Sebastian hails from Arlington, Virginia. She has two sons and travels a lot. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Valparaiso Poetry Review, Lily, Autumn Sky Poetry, The Dead Mule, Mannequin Envy, Poems Niederngasse, Avatar Review and elsewhere. Nic blogs at Very Like A Whale |