Quay by Lana Bella

But we were a maybe and never a must when it should have been us. ~ Almost, Lang Leav

You and I nerve-twitched fingers,
traced the footsteps of pelagic
winter until the giddy taunts of
magpies vogued us black, werking
where flesh like ours bent into
the coral stipe of gulfweed. Spears
sludged our fingers, scratching
new notes for luxury just beyond
salt’s length, as I broidered to your
eyes pressing indelible against
the crunch of some hungry world.
To bare my wonder through to
woe, I found the pearl buttons first,
yanked like tiny heartbreaks from
the great coat, familiar like clarinet
jazz on prodigy’s fingers, wearing
starlings from the inside out, while
you scratched dirt in the outlines
of my palm, as if this was the only
way you can touch without breaking.

Lana Bella Black & White
A three-time Pushcart Prize & Bettering American Poetry nominee, Lana Bella is an author of three chapbooks, Under My Dark (Crisis Chronicles Press, 2016), Adagio (Finishing Line Press, 2016), and Dear Suki: Letters (Platypus 2412 Mini Chapbook Series, 2016), has had poetry and fiction featured with over 400 journals, Acentos Review, Comstock Review, Expound, Ilanot Review, Notre Dame Review, Rogue Agent, San Pedro River Review, Word/For Word, among others, and work to appear in Aeolian Harp Anthology, Volume 3.

 

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