If she lived in this world,
no longer would she murmur
about her appetite for Wyoming—
rocks, feathers, an open hand,
a conjuring. Her desire
is flamingo, a train ticket
to Aberdeen, the shiny midnight
of Hollywood starlight on paper.
And Wyoming. What she has
is a campaign button, leftover
bread crusts, a length of rope
knotted in place, its other end
circling. If she clutches its swing,
perhaps abrading her unaccustomed
hands, then she might ride
the arc high, unfist her grip,
hurl herself into the tall
plains, ranging that wide
horizon, filling herself with the glint
of minerals, flash of kites,
the sated life of rock and feather.
Annette Sisson lives in Nashville, TN with her husband, dog, and a small flock of hens; all three of her children are fully fledged adults. She teaches students at Belmont University, where her specialization is Victorian literature. In her spare time, she hikes, attends theater, serves on the Board of Nashville Children’s Theatre, bakes, plays the piano, sings in the church choir, and travels. She has published poems in Zone 3, and her chapbook, A Casting Off, will be published (May 2019) by Finishing Line Press
Art: out of my head and into my skin II
Artist Statement: The sentiment of the poem’s first line brought to mind this iteration “out of my head and into my skin” series. I imagine the circles widening and widening until she eventually decides to “ride/ the arc high, unfist her grip/hurl herself into the tall/ plains.”