Four Poems by Elizabeth Reames

soft cartel may 2018

102.5

my legs
strain
to stay
still
with enough
potential
to launch
me
from under
my brain
sizzles
under electric
tears
a hazy
monsoon
fueling forest
fire
with gasoline
it breaks
banks
and it
spills
and I
want
and I
want
and I

and I fall into a dream
and I smell lilacs
and they are everywhere
and the trees stretch back
and back
and back
and the veins of the land
are shot through with cherry cordial
and the land is drunk
good drunk not bad drunk
because I’ve never seen bad drunk
organized in such beautiful rows
the land is fruitful
and flits like a flipbook
one still sketch after another
with the illusion of motion
just as I am under the illusion
of being in a car
without a roof
and you want to know
how I know

because the wind
is kind

I reach the lighthouse
at the end of the road
and through the shadowed verdigris
cool to the touch
and I follow the gray boards
down to the sand
and keep going
and bury my feet
in the rocks
but they don’t hurt
I do not bruise
they roll against my skin
and the water rolls
around my ankles
like a discarded dress

and I think of the fish
silken kites
eyes always open
mouth always drinking
perpetual motion
brush strokes
with paint
that disappears
when it dries

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