Narrated by Shannon Cuthbert
The flowers curl like ears
to take in whispers
of foxes and fireflies,
the rattling breaths
of the ancient dead.
Alone on the grass
a girl lies still,
decides to inhale
fragments of stone.
Her lungs are planets,
buoyant, blue,
so wide they might
float high above.
BIO: Shannon Cuthbert is an artist and writer living in Brooklyn. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Chronogram, Call Me [Brackets], The Writers’ Cafe Magazine, Gingerbread House, The Orchards Poetry Journal, and Poetry Super Highway, among others.