Untitled
If I knew about anything,
I’d discuss it now
the thickness
of its nature and
its alluring cartilages.
Pitch and buck
in its soup
as time deteriorates,
a rolo chain of
dna.
Like how it’s said
sing for song drives away
the wolves, or
my mom’s assiduous
construction of soda
bread for no reason
egg washing scones
inducing hinge-jawed
blossoms
from the mast
of a naked
green orchid
the sheepshank knot
of still-dark mornings,
afterwork interludes
and weekends
playing across her hands
like light
Allison Hummel is based in Los Angeles. Her work has recently appeared in Francis House, Flag & Void, Fine Print and Cordite Poetry Review. Work is forthcoming from The Meadow and a chapbook, New High, will be released soon by Ziggurat Press.
