[Poetry] trilce i by Grace Sleeman

this late at night the road’s a spine,

streetlight vertebrae flickering

through periphery,

river lungs breathing beneath

satin sky waves hushing on rocks.

this early in the morning I’m the

only one up, headlights lonely on silent roads,

just me and the lighthouse

flaring bright over the sea

Grace Sleeman has fallen out of every tree she's ever climbed. For her, much of the contemporary feminine experience means finding the sensuality in the mundane, finding the sacred in the profane, and finding worms after a thunderstorm. She grew up among the lilacs in coastal Maine, and now lives in Portland. Her work has been published by Koukash Review, Slipstream Press, and Red Rock Review, among other publications. You can find her online at @myrmiidons.