Full Dark and Shine

I.

The beach is empty, tide receding,

dawn breaking into pieces, bent

trees, shattered surf, your

breath. The jellyfish have been

here all night, you think, cannot move

their jelled selves from the sand.

They do not act, just contain—whirled

and purpled stars, their glistening

gritted surfaces. You too,

quivering heart like a soufflé

threatening to fall, nothing

to be said. Impossible to tell

if they live, no face and all

that light streaming through.

II.

Wind presses against the door,

rattles knob and frame, sun

streaking through blinds to slice

the tabletop. Fuschias dip

their sumptuous heads; they wait

and wait in the glass vase, stems

the impossible color of blood, water-

bent into a glittering sieve. Knives

collide in the drawer, face to mirrored

face, but they reflect only mistakes.

And all that’s there is darkness

and shine, rows of sharp teeth.

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Ann Lovett is a poet and visual artist living in Ashland, Oregon. She holds an MFA in Printmaking from Tyler School of Art and an MFA in Poetry from Warren Wilson College. Recent publications include the Bellevue Literary Review and an anthology, The Writers Studio at 30.