A many-footed dancer stares
into her fire at the end of the year.
Poetry is the coming apart
of language. She is a poem.
Her entropic toes mimic music,
pulse, throb and ache. And how
should she call this road, at times
submerged or slick or a dry
and crumbling line across the desert;
what has it done to her feet that
dancing never would? The fire
sings like a Tom Waits bawler.
She sways until her skin pinks,
her blue eyes sparkle like New Years,
like fragments of a poem as confetti.
Gregory Stapp received his BA from the University of Oklahoma and his MFA from Queens University of Charlotte. His poems have appeared or are pending publication with Broadsided Press, The Ekphrastic Review, Forage, The Cortland Review, The Sierra Nevada Review, and The Southern Review, among others. He is the current Managing Editor at Harbor Review.
April Editor Roy Beckemeyer‘s latest book is Mouth Brimming Over (2019, Blue Cedar Press).