Résistance
/Annette Sisson
A red balloon wafts
            over a paddock of horses
near Haworth. It lifts
                                 on bursts of air that reverse,
            push it groundward.
                        It ascends again, larks
above the animals’ heads
            like a gamboling kelpie.
                                            Only one mare,
                                  blue-black, is bewitched,
                                                    looks up, inquires.
            The balloon swoops. The mare
bolts, snorts, hooves
                                 the air, electrified. The orb
                                            rises again,
                                 cascades again, charming
                                                      her, luring her in.
It darts too close,
                                    she dips, tearing and bucking,
            and the scene loops, as if
                        the players have forgotten the cue
                                              to unlock the script’s sequence.
            A stalemate of horse and balloon,
                                                        of fear and curiosity. This
palpitating tension, this résistance.
                        ***
                        Or the inverse:
            How                branching
Saplings            in a                 perfect
bio-sphere        collapse           under
their own         weight             seven
years                hence.             Regardless
of                    variety.            Over
and over.          No                  wind.
            Nothing            to
                        withstand.
                        Like oblivious
                        mares pulling
                        up grass,
                        gnawing lemony
                        clover. Like
                        a sheltered tree
                        hobbled, sapped
                        of strength. Like
                        a life hollowed
                        by hope, too
                        fallow to seed
                        fear, to paw
                        at ghosts, to bear wind,
                        to resist.
Annette Sisson is Professor of English at Belmont U in Nashville, TN. She enjoys traveling, hiking, singing, supporting theater, watching birds (as opposed to bird-watching), baking, playing the piano, reading, and (of course) writing. Recent awards: Fellow, 2020 BOAAT Writer’s Retreat; winner, The Porch Writers’ Collective’s 2019 Poetry Contest; Hon. Mention, Passager’s 2019 Poetry Contest. Poem publications include: Zone 3, Rockvale Review (“Best of the Net” nom.), Nashville Review, Passager, Typishly, One, Hamilton Stone Review, KAIROS, The Ekphrastic Review, and Underwood. Her chapbook is titled: A Casting Off, (Finishing Line, May 2019). Poems forthcoming in The Blue Mountain Review, KAIROS, SPANK the CARP, and Raleigh Review.
 
            