Poem of the Month
Radii

By Melissa Bull

Published on September 3, 2015

platonic / platinum

I could lick the hair of his arms to
smell the sunlight
but let the lilac air
wheel-speak our sympathies.

Late evening slanting through halfclosed lids.

bespoke / besotted

This morning I cut
through the baseball diamond.
I found a fractured robin’s egg

iris blue.

More Poetry

A Grip on the Stars

I arrive wrapped in typhoon, blue grey wet blanket airless and unsettled.

Song of the Canister’s Contents

After we thinned out we joined clouds
darkening cleared land and then
we were the shadows of those clouds
crossing open heaths.

Everything is a circle

everything is a circle completing the pages

of history to repaint it

retranscribe the traditional legends