After “Fog” by Ruth Madievsky
slinking its way across
screens, grain slowly
swallowing the light. Static over
skin, the shiver
carrying a cold rush
across you. Static on
my tongue, lips, slurring
words into steady
hisses. My lover slipping
something between her
teeth before falling
into silence. My mouth slowing
itself, unable to chew—its static
jaw, the sound stuck. Both of us
unspooling, undone, undoing, seeing
the static devour the scraps.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 24, Issue 5.
Ellery Beck is a graduate of Salisbury University with a BA in Creative Writing. They have poems published or forthcoming in Passages North, Colorado Review, Atlanta Review, Sugar House Review, New Delta Review and elsewhere. They’re also a reader for Poet Lore as well as one of the co-founders of Beaver Magazine.
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