Simone Muench
The water owns her, wears her
like a blue ball gown embossed
with froth. Cypress swoon
from white light. Leaves fall
into goldfish. Beneath a boat,
a girl. Beneath the girl, a poppy
spilling into fire-tangles into
a balefire wheeling in the water.
In one version, she folds up
like a hand fan, her songs
pleated gills panting underwater.
In another, she fashions
the wires of her earrings
into antennae, transmitting
her story across the harbor,
her taffeta dress sliding
toward the lighthouse without her.
- "Till all the crimson changed, and past into deep orange o’er the sea"
like a blue ball gown embossed
with froth. Cypress swoon
from white light. Leaves fall
into goldfish. Beneath a boat,
a girl. Beneath the girl, a poppy
spilling into fire-tangles into
a balefire wheeling in the water.
In one version, she folds up
like a hand fan, her songs
pleated gills panting underwater.
In another, she fashions
the wires of her earrings
into antennae, transmitting
her story across the harbor,
her taffeta dress sliding
toward the lighthouse without her.
- "Till all the crimson changed, and past into deep orange o’er the sea"