Joan Colby
Spring 2016 * Wasp The wasp buzzing, darting. Your palm covers the sugared glass. Imagine swallowing such Malevolence. Throat A canyon of tribulation in which A flash flood devises its path Until you are an inversion Within an inversion, incapable Of breath, an avalanche Blocking the swallow’s Mechanism. This imagination Is groundless. The wasp Doodles the garbage can’s Cockeyed lid. How is it That every occasion becomes An occasion of sin or temptation To envision the worst. Or the sin of omission Failing to avert What you knew or should have known -- as a legal document infers-- For example leaving a pitcher Of sweetness on the patio To lure imposter ladybugs. Their small orange boats overturned. They smell of rust or disappointment. The wasp returns To an investigation of your surplus. A fearsome saxophone. A jittery Eighth note, restless and persistent. * |
Misfortunes
The old country church converted To a residence. To live in holiness, That’s the ticket. In the churchyard, tombstones Sit up like children in their beds Demanding a story. Amethysts and anthracite, The deep earth where dwarves labor To extract luster and fire. Cypher of dreams, the green evidence, How lust inspires the zodiac. Pick-up sticks and jack of hearts, Games of dexterity and chance. Step on a cricket and a horse Just short of the finish line Falls dead. On the screen, a man Says Mars will be habitable It merely takes warming The way hypothermia Can be treated Flesh to flesh. * |
Joan Colby has published widely in journals such as Poetry, Atlanta Review, South Dakota Review, etc. Awards include two Illinois Arts Council Literary Awards, an Illinois Arts Council Fellowship in Literature. She has published 16 books including "Selected Poems" from FutureCycle Press which received the 2013 FutureCycle Prize and “Ribcage” from Glass Lyre Press which has been awarded the 2015 Kithara Book Prize. Colby is also an associate editor of Kentucky Review and FutureCycle Press.
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