One Hundred and One

Collaboratively written and revised by Jose A. Alcantara, Matt Daly, and Eric Paul Shaffer

Audio Poem
Read By Lori Howe

A season has passed since I felt the moraine

pass beneath my feet and beneath the snow.

Stars no longer burn winter’s black

drapery through with pinholes. I stand

between the blue of summer and the lake

of forgetting, the gauze of cells sheathing my hands

empty of everything but traceries,

the upward gaze of daisies submerged in cold water

a fish’s silver fin, the familiar bend and ache.

To be alive with currents shaping my movements

means that I will remain, enmeshed among

a hundred frogs beckoning the warm night.

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