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The mist in mystery
by Ivy Alvarez

The winks in wrinkles, your crinkles, your smiles, a here embedded in there intended, commingling, tingling:- the gust in the gusset, a russet, bow in elbow’s bend, a lap slapped, there when you sit, gone when you stand.

A plum’s age in plumage, when the door shuts, I can’t see you. And you a taste, solely: sesame, salt, umami, soy. Salt in elbow crook. Look. White feathers bird walking across, knees wrinkled, coming and going, a series of winks, I take my finger, malinger, plug the holey gust from blowing.

© Ivy Alvarez

 

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IVY ALVAREZ
2012 Resident Poet

The mist in mystery

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