AT BARTON SPRINGS
My feet stick in the slick
moss, I watch the breathing
belly of the gangly
brunette sitting steaming
on the rocks, the stars
arch into brains
and backbends. Between
the bottom of my ribcage
and the central
sunspot of my navel
is an inner orbit
of nerves and rivers.
I glow odd and alive:
am a moonlit bruise
looking for the fist
that birthed me.
Jeff Fallis is a Ph.D. student in creative writing at the University of Georgia. His poems have appeared in publications like The Oxford American, The Iowa Review, and Ploughshares and in the anthologies Blues Poems and The Art of Losing.
<< Home