T O C

 

STILL LIFE IN THE SHADOW OF A VOLCANO

Frances Justine Post

It doesn't lurch exactly not to the eye or hum      little pills of dirt
roll down the bank      not a sound you hear or a tearing but a few

dogs dash intent through town      a fox pair gambol through
the park climb a tree      fog or is it smoke inches down a smell

of eggs a muddying      vegetation will not singe just yet or lean
you knew this was possible      the sky jaundiced the ocean

slate the waves with their tops blown off      beaching      a tightening
a confusion of throat      some clench in your dark animal heart.

Last night you dreamed of birth something you'd forgotten
a sharp burn      a tenderness about the center      all the shades of red

vermilion crimson pale tendrils mammalian membrane strange clots
a nail a cord blue a tooth but is it something that must be assembled?

Follow the signs you are worn still it won't stop      you can't wait
for something's never going to be told to you weatherman or no doctor.

It trembles what you're facing      this ends      natural won't change disaster.

 

 

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I have never seen a volcano, but I often have dreams about birth going terribly          wrong