I dream of my parents’ divorce

– Bethany Carlson –

In the amphitheater of the Lovely, I heard
you calling the names of the chosen one by one,
soliloquy gone wrong, slow posture of fists.

I watched the herd go out to pasture, mistaking
antipathy for the backbone of dissonance,
shelf life for a missive on despair.

See how fingers will align to the interior
of palms,          how pilgrims will trail

the brightest star.  Bone structure, the bride
as handful of tulle & nail.  Lyricism, a series of books 

on nests.   Failure, a kind of breath
underwater;    you said figment of the imagination,

your mouth sheer in its canyon of coral.