Opennes of Comets


The great waves of a tidal lake remain inaudible beneath contrasting bands of traffic

As it happens to be night

Incarnadine petals grow from the throat of a slaughtered hen

In utopia-chant of yard dogs

What I have brought in from the kitchen

The clank of keys, pull of clothes against stiff fur, each rarefied pulse of attention

The sky carves tallies in the backboards of their eyes

The great drill begins to quiver

The grass to pierce the palm, as moss grows

Someone continues to live there, in the fault between l• and s•ight (e•vision; re•vision)

Riley Ratcliff is a writer from San Antonio, Texas (Yanaguana). They currently live on Narragansett land in Providence, Rhode Island, where they are an MFA student at Brown University. Recent work can be found in Poetry Northwest, Fence, Two Peach, Raleigh Review, TYPO, and elsewhere - ourcorrespondence (at) protonmail (dot) com.