The void reshuffles the deck, your card from a sister life.
Poet, explain who sends these postcards from a sister-life?
Her fingernails leave quarter moons: night tears from its corners—
Even the landscape reassembles in a sister-life.
During fits of sleep, they leave you the keys of those vacant rooms,
Which once lined the forked boulevards of a sister-life.
The heron’s struggle ends. Please, forward its signature song
To this address—and the next—hardening into a sister-life.
The morning splinters from night, the posts cast crocked shadows—
It waits: the terrible elusive shard from a sister-life.
Once, I heard you say my name, “ava” building into orgasm—
I proclaim my namesake and guard of a sister-life.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 20, Issue 1.
See all items about Ava C. Cipri