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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3328 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Snowy Landscape in a Glass Globe Laurie Byro Fallen snow throughout the woods, a deer with an arrow in her side. I turn the globe, see the prancing of the forest come to life. Starlight tangles the trees like drunken strands of garland. I am writing you from Mexico City. We’ve just returned from a party. I am in my chemise, the green sequined dress over the back of a wooden chair. From here, it looks like tiny tiles of rain-drenched moss from a forest floor. One June, we escaped a summer dance, and walked beneath branches filled with fireflies. You cupped one in your hand, placed it on my forehead, said you would buy bolts of emerald silk for me to wear as a sari. I look through the thick glass ball and shake a snowy night. The night we met in the forest you covered my mouth with your hand, so as not to startle the brown-eyed lady who led her child to the river to drink. How many times have the trees filled with snow or starlight since I left? How many nights have you waited beneath their branches? I am writing you from a building taller than a tree. Below, the city glitters like fireflies. |
