excerpt from aporia: :porchlight

By Rebecca Stoddard


                   as if imitating being rolled

on an ocean floor and

the cessation of breath were simply a


a center developing yellow, an obedient lover

                   in sharp masada, a shanty,

                   an island of all night postures,

                   inside a tiki-torch glow, the muted color attributed to

                   the binding rooms

sweet arcana: :lovebird: : hanging rope

where porchlights swing, water faintly against glass        remorse begging

                   intrusions and invitations (her variants)

                                                                   and skin breaks open over

and over and over against that tip,

                   as immediate as parting