Music From a Wet Distance
"you composed ocean's floor
water's veiled elixir
a map of song:"
All the Ways It Could Go Down
" my legs and my fear-pills turned to powder
and melted plastic on the side of a hill, your hand with mine,
but the rest of you not."
"It curls along my limbs and face, showing the courtesy
to leave a little breathing space around my nostrils. I rest
against its bulbous volume. Together we allow the evening
to serenade us –"
Ava C. Cipri
" if grief has a sound it doesn't end
it dissipates stammers itself out
like the forgotten wick "
Image by: barbaragaillewis
"April 1945 came
too late. The year our taut American shutters snapped. Still spinning."