Standing on the spine
of the Berkshires I look
toward the Midwest
holding reins arrest
wild horses drub
the chest I look to where
I was born tongues
back into gospels smoke lifts
in the hills mist
over a lone great lake I shade my eyes
with the palm of my hand
I hear my body parts speak their own
backbone erect consequence
reaction I was a girl I opened
a forbidden jar and what flew out
femur cerebrum teeth
every word I can think of stepping stone.
Photo by Bogdan Petrea.
Mason Street 