Poems by Anne Elias
www.anneelias.com

               
                Indifferent this fire in the air,
                a moth, a spider…

                It is round, it is this that approximates
                relationships, undulating hostility.

                In the place where the pages are parted,
                suspended the laundry is hung, the time
                sorted through, red brick to cinder.

                Colors accumulate on the backs pressed in
                isolation, embossed with uncertain lines.

                In the hiss of heated air, pollen and
                Insects rise with the movement of a
                dividing hand.

                It’s all beyond life size.

                2

                After all these years to take to drowning
                in bed, sweet sewery dreams, television
                theme songs.
                The fingers lock up, in unwanted positions,
                need to be willed, awaiting with terror,
                little bits of cardboard, pieces of
                something with color, pulled towards an
                element, where and when it doesn’t happen,
                ultimately doesn’t happen.
                Surrogate travel, simulating movement
                through space, across the board.

                3

                Radio news coming thru the walls
                Beach house light and bed spreads
                trailing boats.

                The wind in the sugar cane hovering
                dark dragon flies, speckled bird fields,

                In black and dirt, in black and dirt.

                4

                Notice now.
                It becomes evident, wet close to the
                sound of the gravel, ink on the skin,
                black and suspect water on metal.

                Iron on the tongue

                It becomes evident, in siphoning the
                sound for the need, its there in the
                palm against the creases forming
                Puddles,

                catching anything in air.

                               
                5

                Skin blistering, little chick
                marshmallows, covered in yellow sugar,
                little yellow marshmallow peeps.

                Brings the mail up, the one flight
                It yellows and falls to the floor
                There’s rattling and buzzing I don’t

                        Notice now.