picture Saturn's rings
thinner than you’d imagine
& more delicate in their slivers
of cosmic silver & rose gold dust
but god how they spin & clatter
like wind chimes or wedding vows
as you gather all the things that made
you smile today & offer them to me—
these nouns wrapped in parchment
& verbs pressed inside books of
petals & prose & god how
gracefully you play conductor
of this orchestra you call my love—
picture Saturn’s rings
thinner than you’d imagine
& dangling from your wrists,
all minor tulip root & Canis Major
wonder & god how they announce the
movements of the satellites tattooed
upon your fingertips—
& god how your fingertips spill across
my waist like the Milky Way turned
on its side.
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An avid introvert and full-time carbon-based life-form, Ashley Cline crash landed in south Jersey twenty-eight years ago and still calls that strange land home. Most often found listening to Carly Rae Jepsen, her essays on music and feelings have been published by Sound Bites Media; her poetry has appeared in 404 Ink, and is forthcoming in Third Point Press. She graduated from Rowan University in 2013 with a Bachelor’s degree in Journalism, and her best at all-you-can-eat sushi is 5 rolls in 11 minutes.
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