- Dry Spell, and: Home Song, and: Stand-In for a Shooting Star
the sky wasEve r clear andc her ry Kool-A idpurge able fade d Half-rem embered redscar let on a di et of ski m milkwater melon w here the flesh m eets the rind
But the sun (in last nigh t’s dress) he ave s itselfo ver h ills and powerli nes rising still a bove the butter scotch pin e show er ingthe d us t with c aye nne rain
Up north, pinned behinda steering wheel, whistling overthe rooftops and cooling towers, limpingunder the auburn skirts of street lampsin the early morning light,grinning, wagging, stripping paint like turpentine,cracking the panes of the busted windows,speed walking through the suburbs, standing still,hands tucked into coat pocket, sinking into sleepas easy as a tire iron tossed into new snow, icewhere there once was a river, black ice now,river unwritten, unsung, [End Page 444] one-way street, thick with fresh snow,untouched, sadness streaming from the cityto the next town where it is also white, upthe street where people in houses are just startingto wake, hi-beams chasing around the roomthe shadows and third-shift eyes.
Stand-In for a Shooting Star
static on the screen of an old TV steel shavings, mercury a streak of rain catching the light a fork of lightening prodding the night a drip, a flash, God’s losta faucet’s splash in the curve of a spoon spit curl on the face of the moon a dot, a dash a smear of snot a comet’s tail, cum shot in a cup of black coffee, a half-and-half swirla run in the stocking worn by a dead girl [End Page 445]
Cindy King lives in Lancaster, Texas, where she teaches at the University of North Texas at Dallas as an assistant professor of English and writing. Her most recent publications include poems in Callaloo, North American Review, Los Angeles Review, American Literary Review, jubilat, and Barrow Street. Her work can also be heard online at http://weekendamerica.publicradio.org/display/web/2008/12/13/cocktail_hour and at http://www.pankmagazine.com/misanthrope/.