Snakehouse
THE HORSE IN MOTION
I am looking at
the sky how the sky
looks at itself,
watchface turning
against its glass
I’ll find the right
blue, a bell struck
then dampened,
a strewn, closed,
& distant tone
*
Image, how
fell you are,
dead with color,
hot from the sun
& how hard
you are run
& how hard won
We are in one place
for so long
Submersion
PROTECTION AGAINST ME
Like a ring
that hits the ground rolling,
my things,
my slender things.
Each point of reference
a spool of ribbon.
A ribbon with no tail.
Secrecy never used as measure.
Can’t weigh that away.
I could never tell.
Silver’s clever, but not vice versa.
I was about to drink this.
Whatever the story, it ended in picture.
Take ten till there’s nothing left.
Subtracted Like Jewels
Alana Solin is a writer and collage artist from New Jersey. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Touch the Donkey, periodicities, TILT, TAGVVERK, Dusie, Cream City Review, Annulet, Second Factory, and elsewhere. You can find more at alanasol.in.