A TEACHER'S LOST PROPERTY

Poetry by Carlo Saio

Barefoot soul, sketched
through chicken wire lenses

floats in spaces criss-cross
vexing her body, 
as the pixel splattered 
frey of her borderless image

stirs shy dust with the pulse 
undulating earth into the clover 
clouds she palm pockets, above 
the valley's tread of herself,

where they peer at her, behind 
the stare she has learned not see,
she falls under night, green
glowing larval markings 
defend her mapped moist wings 

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and she hatches a face 
with the dark's parasitic grains,
crests a butterfly in the waves 
her wingwind orchestrates

surging in dream

she sees them playing, 
begging to invent the infinite
incapacity of her world, 

and so, the unconscious stirring
stippling her shadow,
grows 
the more
it's light is hidden

Barefoot soul, live
in the art the word 
has taught us to forget ​

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