From WTP Vol. VI #6

Meridian
By stephanie roberts

tonight there are the works,
a super harvest moon, a low
canoe in the gone, a rainbow
sail catamaran drives to
dusk, as a meteor dashes
in the sky. the word meridian
falls through the mind,
like henry the eighth’s,
bright exhalation in the evening.
i mumble this half asleep
to pull the stitch through
to you—a mountain’s
view, a gift of loons—
eighteen. their cry, the poet’s
night. in the caspian lake’s
september, each wing returns
water to itself. one belly
a white ensign
of surrender. joy and grief
twin—the music of campari
—the sweet and the bitter
see-saw of your love.
is plum the fulcrum,
or is the pivot your
melancholy memory? reign
over me awhile, wet othello,
satisfied by the sugar
of sangiovese wine
(a body of blood), in the
gloaming, one sip at a time
from the teaspoon of tongues.

stephanie roberts has poetry featured or forthcoming, in periodicals, in North America and Europe, including Atlanta Review, Arcturus, Crannóg Magazine, The Stockholm Review of Literature, Occulum, and elsewhere. A 2018 Pushcart Prize nominee, she has also garnered finalist honors with the Eyewear Publishing LTD Fortnight Prize, Anomalous Press Open Reading, and the 2016 Causeway Lit Fall Poetry Contest.