by Christina Issa
Slight nudges are like modest quakes
Slight nudges are like modest quakes
Empty cavities reveal the stretch of
A porous and lighter existence
Joni on her side but still
She feels adrift
Light nips at her fingertips and
Daylight shakes off her moody weight
Withered tomorrows signal for
The night to drench her
Only momentarily
She hasn't seen a thing yet but
Roads have not been so friendly
Passer-by's and their evil eyes
Pierce a thin veil and cull
Her overgrown weeds
Clouded by fantasy
She is
Sleeping wide awake
Only woken up by the
Most modest quakes
