Blue Falsetto

BY M.E. Riley

          after Frank Stanford

You won’t look me in the face I'm a hound that's killed
things we once loved so you look 

my feet paled from winter paws
roughened by gravel stiff branches they 

hardly hold the weight of my body cold
statue you admire

Your waist is a place your chest gives ground
sandbar by river hums a summer song

I wish I could keep you barefoot and dance
lightly around young plants bearing in dry soil

Too much to raise your eyes across the rest of me
you look at my feet yours walked 

over spring ground where you found me
cover same terrain when you leave


M.E. reads "Blue Falsetto"

M.E. Riley sweats in New Orleans. She is an assistant poetry editor for Bayou Magazine, as well as a regular contributor to Bayou’s blog. Work has appeared in Nude Bruce Review, Eunoia Review, Belle Journal, and Tales from the South VI, among others.