« Kiki Petrosino | Contents | Travis Macdonald »

Smarie Clay




The grand piano

falls. It lands, a yawn.


Look in & see teeth

of Babylon. Beyond


bone, a celestial crux,

a body’s red.


Look down

the resting place


of fingers. Open

your palm  &   hatchlings



A Poplar drips from the grand

summit; an inverted ear,


an epoch with clocks

plump as bridling eyes.







I am a balcony without a building. I hang

with the amphibious complexion


of spring

and all it’s mourners.


The dahlias do not stray far

from fingernail’s irretrievable


vowels, fenced in

by surfacing teeth.


The orange tree takes

back its offerings


barrels vanish, shadows



Somebody left a noose lined

with insects


I am a harp without

man I borrow fingers


from weather vanes

I will not open ears


until rats feast on orange



and a noose blooms from a patch

of fall.


The dead are dying, I lay

my mandolin down, its mouth


stays open. A ladder grows

from the tongue.


« Kiki Petrosino | Contents | Travis Macdonald »