around the curve of
summer’s first day
the Sun jumps,

leaps to the left,
she’s citrus
in orange neon,
shimmering wide hips,
wailing like a siren—
cars swerve as she shimmies
across the street

after all, half the world’s on fire,
lunatic bugs buzz and fuck
like mad, blazing
with her waxy drippings

forget circumferences and
temperatures, arm’s length abstractions
and theories of light—
the mother of all bombshells,
breathing nuclear secrets
into the
ear of Eve

Forum Comments:Bending Light
Image Credit:Free Images
Maria Mazzenga travels daily from her home in Arlington, Virginia, to her job as a historian in Washington, D.C. and back again searching for poems in waiting. She’s been writing, publishing, and reading poetry for 30 years.

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