In the place of cisterns
swaddled in cobra lilies
spawn of cloud seed heals
the moon of its infected swelling.
A heat dissipates to crystal, gaslit
in the aging night. You were
a slip of a boat set off in a slit
of wild waters, two down
no rudder, no oar. One love
travels in tides, in elliptic swirls
hot to cold, then back again.
The other, a faucet, a cup
a tinseled lake warming
in a metronome of sun.
Ferral Willcox is a U.S.-born poet and musician currently living in Pokhara, Nepal. Ferral’s work can be found in Per Contra, concis, Peacock Journal, Rat’s Ass Review, and elsewhere. Her poetry was featured in the Q-Street venue of the Philadelphia Fringe Festival, and she is a regular contributor to the Plath Poetry Project.