J^enna C^ardinale

The Shore I Was

The wave sounding
a hollow— 

Back from the high— Mouth
I rest in— 

Embrace like the shoreline— 

In two moments
with my voice—

Death later
on perhaps—




Fascicle 1








Be Nothing But a Statue

Her eyes swallowing— Gardens
of meat— Equidistant
in the glancing— 

The season draws— Blood
if not for that
secret— 

The last beat
the last— Full
of honeysuckle— Liberation
has lost— 

Say I am a wedding— Mistake
in my so—




Cannibal 1








Faces It Was Natural To Think About

House they've borrowed—
Victories, no
matter how— 

Garden on a wire— 

So what if
you were born—




6x6 10








If you were my
little— 

The rainbow even—
A pearl then— 

Gem in
an extra— 

My way to
visit Emily—




LIT 3








Knives in knots— You
make my heart—

An hour and
a half you— Heat
you came in— 

Callous was an island—
It— I miss it—




CROWD 1








Why is the president so
stiff and stuffed—
I listen to these
boots aiming for my
fingers— Experience
experience— The contact
of stockinged feet—

These what ifs open
a spot opposite this—




Columbia Poetry Review 16

[step back to issue 2]