In a life unquestioned,
divided by infants,
rings and coffin nails,
clerics hospital-corner beds
and turn lovers into larders.
This life, with its padded,
upholstered bones,
serenely, inexorably
passes by
in soft, felt shoes.
A spine as straight
as Athena’s spear; proportions
perfect as a nautilus shell:
this was the architect’s wont
in wedding bedrock to vault.
Rows upon rows of stainless
steel windows guard the prim, dry
womb. Outside, a riot of green
growing things throw tendrils up
to caress a carnal sky.
A black king snake
bracelets a magnolia tree.
Snowy mantilla’d egrets soar
and dragonflies ballet over water
the color of my lover’s eyes.
Karen Bryant teaches Art History and Humanities at Saint Leo University in Saint Leo, Florida. She can be found along the banks of the Manatee River feasting on the fruits of her garden: pomegranate, papaya, pineapple and Persian limes. One day she’ll return to the water and align with all that's best and bright.