the night spill of ink
on papyrus leaves. Kabbalah
tree in twilight, moon resting in its branches. My head
bears the soft wound of ash, veiled proof that my heart has been thrown to the city (glass apple,
skyscraper to pitch & asphalt). We are all anachronistic, each a light that has left a dying shell just centuries before. (Amen.)
JESSICA MARTINEZ has had poetry published in Helix, Two Review, Cahoots, Fogged Clarity, The Bend, and Calliope. A sequence of her poems and photographs appear in Mind. She lives in Savannah, Georgia with her husband and twin boys.