In lieu of
bridle, let
nestle be
tattled up. Let
snout keep. Leave
name, leave dust.
What passes for summer,
the somnifuge.
Underneath the lake,
something sonic
mucks low, almost
lost. As
for the moon,
it gnaws.
L. Vella has poems that have appeared or are forthcoming in Spork, Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet, Birdfeast, Sugar House Review, and Black Warrior Review. Originally from Detroit, she is a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and now lives and works in Iowa City.