COLUMBA
  • COLUMBA
  • QUARTERLY
  • BOOKS
  • ABOUT
  • SUBSCRIBE
  • SUBMIT
  • CONTACT
<
LYONS/ BIO


​




SALTINE
​

​

This weather is so weird.
Dazzled dry flakes
on a precipice of green
that the sun splays on the rim
of eye
glasses.
Dissolves slowly behind the veil
on a shredded napkin
in the far ahead sector
of the poem’s understanding
til it’s as liquid as a tear
which is mostly salt.
Out of the crumbs
make a saltine
that could just be snow sparkling
until dissolved
in the future which comes in
through the orthogonal doorway.







© COLUMBA  |  ​​​​​​ISSN ​2564-1271

  • COLUMBA
  • QUARTERLY
  • BOOKS
  • ABOUT
  • SUBSCRIBE
  • SUBMIT
  • CONTACT