No warning, no tightening
in the trees to signal the onslaught
of undulation, the hum
muting the birds, horns, sinking
into teeth. Breathe the pulsing
shrill into your jaw. The nymphsong
of thousands unseen, like salt
in water, impossible to see
as separate, and yet they won’t
outlive the season, translucent forms
left clinging, each a perfect
mold of the body that refused.
Carey Russell is currently pursuing an MFA at Columbia University where she works in Donor Relations. Her work has recently appeared in New Millennium Writings (Honorable Mention 2013 Poetry Competition), Barnstorm, Sixfold (2nd Place 2013 Poetry Contest), American Athenaeum, and the Cumberland River Review.
