dawn lonsinger
March 13, 2010
gray matter
sky smattered, hair
peppered with time,
unflushed photos,
damp clay, smog
what breaches
the surface, ocean
sliced into slivers,
cortex folded in
like challah
concrete seems
a perjury but its cakey
die-hardism lures
storms to move through
density, undo us
with cafeteria, dull nickel,
bark, the rhinoceros
by the watering hole—
majestic antediluvian jaw
dawn lonsinger is pursuing a doctorate at the University of Utah, where she is the managing editor of Western Humanities Review. She is the author of two chapbooks, the linoleum crop (Jeanne Duval Editions, 2007) and The Nested Object (Dancing Girl Press, 2009), and her poems have appeared in numerous journals, including Blackbird, New Orleans Review, Sonora Review, Post Road, and The Journal. She, like most living organisms, has a thing for light.
