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. 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.