I watch the stars with everyone else but destroy them on my own
The sky had to detonate
like that so I could twist stars
between my fingers, into
my palms, against my skin.
Now I stand underneath the
fallout’s center, where I am
an explanation. Debris
kisses me, reflections exchange
me, and everyone takes me.
(But) Between where the sea nuzzles
the sky, we all misbehave.
Here we are centered, with closed
knuckles, sharp lines, a journey
sewed shut. We are where we get
ourselves tangled in fishing line,
feathered bait dipped just beneath
the surface - the world barely
skimming the top. We are wild
in the way that silence is
wild, and still somehow convinced
that voices will be what chase
us from this flood. The heavens
are still smashed against my hands
where they feel soft, underneath
the wreckage toft and I will
let their heat stain me while I
sink the moon and everyone (watches).
Shannon Waite is a High School English and Creative Writing teacher turned Proposal Writer and Marketing Coordinator in Metro Detroit. She's currently earning her third degree, this one in Creative Writing, at Oakland University. Her fiction has appeared in PANK and is forthcoming in Oakland Arts Review.
The Ekphrastic Review
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