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

The Genus Nabokovia

Taste of tangerine.
Blue as Tuesday.
Wings, the texture of powdered sugar

Novelists are serious about taxonomy–
the blur of color and text on labels
of blue butterfly genera.

His barely recognizable corpse

His barely recognizable corpse had gone through the passage rites of propriety, the grandiloquence of motionlessness.