FragLit

an online magazine of fragmentary writing

::

Solitude

Spring 2010 :: Current Issue

Holding Fog

Alexis Rotella

At every turn
the dream
that wants me
to write it
down

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Like holding fog
this grey cashmere scarf
I found at Goodwill

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Scarecrow gone
but the crucifix
still stands

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The wind
has come to sculpt
the snow

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A bell the shape of a child is ringing.

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Pouring rain
at midnight
a hearse stops
in front of a neighbor’s house
and waits

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All winter
that one leaf
that won’t let go

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The beauty of a fragment is that it’s there but not there.

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Chinatown
every face
alone

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Melt me winter says to spring.

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Flying across country
I read Thoreau
in a cloud

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She doesn’t please me at all
the people pleaser

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What is a pomegranate if not a geode?

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Before the concert
peep
of a pitch pipe

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In the midst
of missing him
mosquitoes

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Tree rings
saying hello
from long ago

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While we talk he woks.

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Mourning doves
an ancient
ache

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Slowly
the incense unwinds
like a serpent
that has slept
a thousand years

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Spring wind
I kneel
on the soft earth
and wrap my arms
around myself

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Moths
nibble
at the night

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Computer keyboard my word piano.

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With a match
he ignites
one end of my shadow
and watches it
burn away

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House quiet
I fold into full lotus
and cry

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Digging for facts while fragments just appear.

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As I reach to water
the fern
a sheet of falling light

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I treasure
the stone
you threw at me

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The snail making lace.

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At the top
of the Ferris Wheel
lilac scent

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Abandoned farmhouse
lace curtains blowing
out the window

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A tulip opens…
mandala

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