Different Time, Different Place Some Hundred Miles Away
poem by Lana Bella
You woke pouring horizontal and white,
like the grazing of cows in drought. A half-life flung to some roadside warding the knees of things, you clung to the language of woods brooding over loam to guts, as if crave was a word sheared clean at the cruelest angles. Ghost-desert floor reaching up in blades of aphids, and you, standing there at the isthmus hour, grounded and hungry, tremored with caution of a rotting sick. It was early evening then when you hurt like a cactus spine, guttural rage ran the tongue each time nocturnes traveled down your cheek, reminding you of how your body was a war when the sun fell low. |
About the writer
A four-time Pushcart Prize, five-time Best of the Net, & Bettering American Poetry nominee, Lana Bella is an author of three chapbooks, Under My Dark (Crisis Chronicles Press, 2016), Adagio (Finishing Line Press, 2016), and Dear Suki: Letters (Platypus 2412 Mini Chapbook Series, 2016), has had poetry and fiction featured with over 500 journals, Acentos Review, Comstock Review, EVENT, Ilanot Review, Notre Dame Review, Rock & Sling, The Stillwater Review, Sundress Publications, & Whiskey Island, among others, and Aeolian Harp Anthology, Volume 3. Lana resides in the US and the coastal town of Nha Trang, Vietnam, where she is a mom of two far-too-clever-frolicsome imps.
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