Author: Anca Vlasopolos

for Anthony

Are suburban malls so different from the sheepfold?

That pastoral vision, compounded of too much ozone,
glare off white rocks and dust, shattered sun on waves,
that read in the eloquent torment of trunk
a girl’s body growing hard away from a god’s will

sometimes strikes even here, where
the light flickers, tinged with purple gas,
and october skies reverberate, the color of olive bark

You were the first to see, then we too
recognized the unmistakable shape trapped in a pot

even the six-year-old said, “yes, I see the legs and the belly,
even the belly button”

her head the leafy bole overhanging tables where dishes appear,
their contents vanish, and talk spirals like smoke

her body twisting itself still
against the wind of that ill-met desire

unseen by most she ornaments another appetite

while you, my love, she wreathes
for sight

Anca Vlasopolos Web site, with information about her publications and links to those online: