by Chella Courington
at random. there’s a crater on my chest: shallow bowl of
a hushed meteorite. no fallen star. no washed glow. mass
materialized under fingers fumbling in darkness.
surgical fingers carve matter out. toss it into the universe with
baby teeth and old pillows. jellyfish string lustrous filaments
through the milky way. white-beaded nematocysts
shoot deadly darts. over the crater an old moon in a new
moon’s arms. light cuts them to sliver. lapwings screech on
sliding currents. plumage floods sky:
iridescent purple stings the night.
~***~
This poem and others of Chella's can be found in Volume 4, "Stardust."
Chella and other Volume 4 poets will be reading December 8 in Santa Barbara. For details see the flyer here.
With a Ph.D. in American and British Literature and an MFA in Poetry, Chella Courington is the author of six poetry and three flash fiction chapbooks. Her poetry appears in numerous anthologies and journals including Spillway, Pirene’s Fountain, and The Los Angeles Review. Originally from the Appalachian South, Courington lives in California with another writer and two cats. For more information: chellacourington.net