While not Lake Natron,
Lavanca Bay will do—
shallow, salty enough
to keep me in the pink,
at least inwardly.
Without regular clipping,
even an old bird
can use a storm
to disappear. At first,
every unknown alarms,
but, gradually, I become
open to partnering
strangers. My friends,
take advantage of chaos.
A flash of sky
can become a world.
READ MORE:
A flamingo? In Texas? A zoo fugitive since 2005 is still surviving the wild [New York Times]
Devon Balwit teaches in Portland, OR. She has six chapbooks and three collections out or forthcoming, among them: We are Procession, Seismograph (Nixes Mate Books), Risk Being/Complicated (A collaboration with Canadian artist Lorette C. Luzajic); Where You Were Going Never Was (Grey Borders); and Motes at Play in the Halls of Light (Kelsay Books). Her individual poems can (or will) be found here as well as in The Cincinnati Review, apt, Posit, The Carolina Quarterly, Vector Press; Red Earth Review; The Turnip Truck(s), Drylandlit; Eclectica, SWWIM, Peacock Journal, and more.
Image by Harshil Gudka.
