by Anastasia Vassos

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.