Three Poems by Serena Wilcox

Nocturnal Syllables

The body
turns tightly
under the shadow of trees,
the sky is lacerated
by lightning,
clouds withdraw slowly
there, a soft
crescent sickle
implanted in darkness
is surrounded by embers
of glinting
cold
lights

if you must die,
go quietly,
lie unchanging
swaddled in deep sleep,
death will die
a thousand times
before the end of the night,

this is what the wilderness looks like…



Erasure

mist in the distance,
erases the trees, gray
they stand, like winged shadows,
veiled by something frail and forced
as a kiss on a wedding day



Variations

your leaves
fall
like soft braids,
unraveling
there, your frame freshly raped
by wind
half nude
thin, from a season of illness
your body is shifting
broken
your limbs obsessing,
wanting to be touched
by something nonviolent,
something without hands
deep, your need to feel yourself,
breathe—
there is a gallery of those
just like you
along the road
like prostitutes, adorned in the
colors of an emerging evening,
numerous, but extremely alone



Serena Wilcox has literary work published and/or forthcoming in Ann
Arbor Review, BlazeVox, Word Riot, Word for Word, Moon Milk Review,
and many other publications. Her first collection of poetry, Sacred
Parodies (Ziggurat Books International) was published in 2011. You can
find out more about her at www.serenatome.blogspot.com.