By M. Nasorri Pavone
Sole grooves catch an errant bead,
grip bottle crystal bits and seeds
in their embrace of the crumbled.
Gravel and mud-crust, leaf tips
jump from the train of my boot
when I come home. Then shoeless,
my bareness ruffles over the carpet
colony. I may have closed the door
on intruders, but they manage to
finagle their way via crevices. There’s
wind chill ushered in by cantilevered
glass, then the phone rings—siren
for a voice to break in. And look.
Here a spider spins. Who asked him?
M. Nasorri Pavone’s poetry has appeared in River Styx, Sycamore Review, New Letters, The Cortland Review, Harpur Palate, Rhino, DMQ Review, The Citron Review, Pirene’s Fountain, and others. She’s been anthologized in Beyond the Lyric Moment (Tebot Bach 2014) and has been nominated for Best of the Net and twice for a Pushcart Prize.