The day is the longest thread,
a continuing out and out and out.
Mirage: a piece of light tricks
the floor to spark. The shard
of a shattered glass.
Shell: a sweater with a button off,
the two sides
in a lopsided embrace.
The night is the longest bowl,
a continuing down and down and down.
Nightshade: something escapes in sleep,
the huff of a dream scrapes
along the pillow.
Halo: fantasize the body
to supple, a strand
that sings under fingers.
Even so, the terrible gape
of the tongue wagging in air:
a blind pig snuffling
the taut skin
of a ripe fruit.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 17, Issue 1.
Ruth Williams is the author of Conveyance (Dancing Girl Press, 2012). Her poetry has appeared in Michigan Quarterly Review, jubilat, Cutbank, Third Coast, Fourteen Hills, and Faultline among others. Currently, she is a Assistant Professor of English at William Jewell College.
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