Alison Williams

storm clouds—
the deep red of the rose
in his tattoo
Presence 13

sideways through
the bicycle spokes—
a crane fly
Presence 13

breathless with laughter
after the dance—
the cold wind
Presence 14

a vine
twists around itself
summer night alone
Presence 15

midday heat
a doll hung up to dry
by its hair
Presence 16

a slight depression
in my beer froth
where the bubble burst
Presence 17

also emerging
from the darkness—
winter trees
Presence 21

moss
softens the wings
of stone angels
Presence 26

autumn term
a gold sequin
on the library stairs
Presence 28

dreamed of him
again last night
      that man
    whose face
    I never see
Presence 20



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