c o n v e r g e n c e:
an online journal of poetry & art


by Melissa Donovan

Leaves twist in the autumn breeze,
tortured servants of the season. They still
on winter's first chill night, ice hinting
at the edge of a sharp star. Shadows lengthen,
light posts awaken, just a flicker
in the fog.

The pads of the wolf's paws are silent
on pavement, quiet as nature's blink.
He wanders the streets in his mangled coat,
blood warming his teeth the way fresh sex
tastes like copper and earth. Tender foe,
he curls in the snow, a hot whisper
in the freeze.

MY FEET & HANK'S FOOT by Allyson Seconds

MY FEET & HANK'S FOOT by Allyson Seconds

by Melissa Donovan

I've been sucking on American Spirits
through the night you abandoned, like a star
trails fading into the tar-sky.

You are not the steady moon
you claim to be
watchful, reluctantly circling.

Wretched winter broke the spell
icy dawn slipped between my sheets
where the hours creaked
my eyes cracked
against the breaking snow-light.

SUN THROUGH FENNEL by Allyson Seconds

SUN THROUGH FENNEL by Allyson Seconds

by Anara Guard

In January's deepest night
we dream of peaches
and weep when the clock wakes us.

The gulls slow,
the frozen air too dense
for their wings to slice through,
their bodies heavy with chill.

At the bus stop, no one speaks.
We huddle like bison
in our shaggy robes
withdrawing from the wind.
Skin shrinks against cold clothes,
bones contract in flesh,
eyeballs recoil from frosted lids.

And deep within our coats, we bow,
sending foggy breath into our own hearts
praying for warm air,
wincing as we promise
not to forget
the blessings of July.

1   |  2   |  3   |  4   |  5

home   |  Table of Contents   |  archive