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Photo : Max Karlsson

Portrait of ┼sa
by Lois P. Jones

When did the sky find your eyes
asking to be born there
among cornflowers
and ocean. When did a mouth

say itself without opening
lips pressed in practice
for the kiss. What
jaw can hold itself against harshness

and the bite of the bitter apple
and go on singing. The red drape
steals your heart.
It needs color to hang silent

near a chiaroscuro--the shadow
that bevels your neck quickens
the sap of the pine
and the darkness winter needs.


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