If You Don’t Like What You See, Turn
We find ourselves amidst
spattering. Sometimes droplets,
sometimes skin, percussive,
the heart both daub and paradiddle.
Singular cells chorale blood’s
mad flood. All this to say we’re never
just hell or halleluiah. We summon
spirits from air, shake them
from shadows, decide battle’s end
with hands quick as scythe blades.
How lucky never to be just. A flick
of the wrist changes figure to ground.
About the author:
Devon Balwit is a teacher/poet living in Portland, OR. She has four chapbooks—How the Blessed Travel (Maverick Duck Press), Forms Most Marvelous (forthcoming with dancing girl press), In Front of the Elements, and Where You Were Going Never Was (both forthcoming with Grey Borders Books). Her recent poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Non-Binary Review, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, The Cincinnati Review, The Almagre Review, The Stillwater Review, The Tule Review, Red Earth Review, Front Porch, and Watershed Review.
Image: “Untitled” by Andre Goncalves, Madeira Island.