EQUINOX SWINGS
by Anca Vlasopolos
Equinox Swings
you’d think equinox means scales perfectly balanced
our tilting world for once in harmony
yet the arc of sun over trees and water cuts itself thinner
thinner each day while moon’s arc rises grows triumphant
nights almost lighter for longer than days
shadows thrown against lit shades cunningly each withheld dark
Unrest of Migrant Selves
spring is the time for leaving
may the most dangerous month
the time when whatever thought of unfurling
finds itself pierced by inexorable claws
fripperies stripped
excrescences dropped off
as body deftly opened
lets go its cling to earth
pulse breath tendon shocks of neurons
beats wings
blind to all holds
but zugunruhe*
wild for flight
*ornithological term for migratory restlessness
Snailing to (Perchance) Byzantium
as i am crawling toward old age
i try to leave behind my habit(at)
glorious though it was
stylus-scored spirals mauve against moss-green
inscribing all—exuberance pain sorrows terrors
at my age
i cannot sail forth a proud naked muscle
or fight for deserted shacks to hide my nakedness
i will confess i need a little cover
yet this less solid more translucent shabbier habit(at) i make
look
replicates in (admittedly) more muted tones upon a flimsier canvas
the scar collection i so tried to shed
About the Author:
Anca Vlasopolos is the author of the award-winning novel The New Bedford Samurai; the award-winning memoir No Return Address: A Memoir of Displacement; three collections of poems, Cartographies of Scale (and Wing) (2015); Walking Toward Solstice (2012); and Penguins in a Warming World (2007); three poetry chapbooks, a detective novel, Missing Members, and over two hundred poems and short stories.