I dreamed
that the world 
had erupted
and left
just us two
in a circle
of trees
with grass
spread out new

The ashen leaves
overtook us
so that no shades
might pass
with a view
to the enticement
of vines wrapped
around us
panting with dew

When all of you 
lay inside of me
an alloy coiling upward
where waxwings flew
until we melted
the tuneless hinges
of tomorrow
and yesterday
too

Lizbeth Leigh Jones holds a degree in Creative Writing from the University of Arizona. Her nonfiction and short fiction have been published in Compendium, Persona, and Bainbridge Island Magazine. She currently lives in Atlanta, GA where she works as a freelance writer and editor and is a member of the Atlanta Writers Club and the Broadleaf Writers Association.

Appears In

Cagibi Issue 24