Ars Poetica
Moss on a rock somewhere in Colorado,
sprinkled pixie flesh salting the cracks
between roots of willows,
staining my ribs with cabernet, bleeding
from a chalice of stardust, the sun
exploding, slivers of plasma piercing through
my mouth: I smile.
I remember pine needles,
and grandma’s pastina, and fire
flies, and dad’s trailer tires.
It could kill us all, melting away
our epidermis and cranium and
femur all the same, zero mercy.
Caught in this Purple Haze,
I’m walking across the street
or drinking myself to sleep,
he sang out help me, caressing the crevice
between then and now, Jimi whispers
the wind cries,
I close my eyes,
and let myself
pretend to die
for a while.
Nadia Christina is a senior at SUNY Fredonia attaining a double major in English and writing. She is the treasurer of Fredonia’s writing club, Writers’ Ring. She specializes in free-form poetry and prose poetry.