Inverse
the moon grows so pale we refuse to touch it.
moss spreads along the river, its weight a question
of singularity. the shape of the tree being a reflection
of wind. on the moth’s wing a cataract grays.
a sound which has no meaning learns to mirror its source.
in a dream, the coral snake is buried in the quarry
though stone by stone it returns.
moss spreads along the river, its weight a question
of singularity. the shape of the tree being a reflection
of wind. on the moth’s wing a cataract grays.
a sound which has no meaning learns to mirror its source.
in a dream, the coral snake is buried in the quarry
though stone by stone it returns.
Sara Lupita Olivares is the author of Migratory Sound, winner of the 2020 CantoMundo Poetry Prize, forthcoming from the University of Arkansas Press, and the chapbook Field Things. Her poems have appeared in Gulf Coast Magazine, Denver Quarterly, Salt Hill Journal, jubilat, and elsewhere. Currently, she is a Ph.D. candidate at Western Michigan University where she teaches creative writing and works as an editor for New Issues Poetry & Prose.
Art: Molly Dunham