Thursday, 26 October 2017


by Lisa Segal

From under gray skies
on a raft somewhere
in the middle of our ocean,
from the wide Sargasso Sea
of our bed—
my body on his,
his body on mine—
he spread a net,
line by line,
of what there is to say.

He has so many
different thoughts
about us,
he said,
that it's like
he's weaving,
one line at a time,
all the threads
of this and that
and why not and what if
and who when
and what where.

But there's never
enough time,
he said,
never enough
of my flesh,
he said,
in his mouth.

* * * * *

Lisa Segal, a poet/writer/artist, has lived in Los Angeles for more than thirty years. Her book, METAMORPHOSIS:  Who is the Maker? An Artist’s Statement (published by Bombshelter Press <>), includes her poetry, prose, and photographs of her sculptures. She won the 2017 Los Angeles Poet Society Poetry Month Contest. She teaches poetry and writing as part of the Los Angeles Poets & Writers Collective and is a member of StudioEleven, an artist-run cooperative. Her poems appear, or are forthcoming, in Cultural WeeklyServing House Journal, The Mas Tequila Review, SpectrumONTHEBUS, Poeticdiversity, FRE&D and elsewhere.           

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