SIGNALS

Has the snake returned? Warm wind
unscrolls its question.

I take the winding trail through
tarnished goldenrod— I’m looking for signals

grey cat sat in grey stone
near Lake Erie

my friend touched the iron rail wondering about contagion

Apparitions vanish as though stung.

_________________________________________________________________
We had no time so we pushed we hurried upstairs we made short work
We had no time we imagined no different the children were calling so we made short work
We had no time we skimmed our lips rough in haste our fingers swift so we made short work
No time to circle the chipped-up fountain No time to finish No time to begin
We had no time so we walked fast fast fast while our shadows slipped from under us
And we were desert sand, dry, eyeless—
momentarily without shadow and without shadow
we were dangerous
we hurried we had no time we locked the door and made a beeline up
we hurried but you slowed on the stairs and I touched you once
our dream hurried too
we couldn’t measure the unforeseeable cloth
between us we hurried as though to curtail the vast silence
it was waiting
around the corner-----.

***

After lunch I scrape the plate, I pass the Artists, bent over their bowls,
Laughing on fold-out chairs in the unmown grass
Laughing beneath the Persian Silk
Join us! Join us! They cry in chorus

I must keep the voice running I’ll join when it’s run its course

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

My Morning Guardian, Rat Snake, moves through
leaflitter, firefly husks, then rests her small head, closes
her shiny eyes, waits for me to pass.

Of course she’ll vanish.
I love her from a distance.

***
No Snake today but in the faded Book: Mosaic Face
of Empress Theodora…Basilica of San Vitale…Ravenna—
when mosaic was dear. Tiny cubes of colored glass. Crystallized
Life. Her large warm eyes made of glass. Her Quiet Reception.
Intense glance. her Semblance
watchful, wordless—.
The lonely air flaring
around her.
I look up, this studio light cracks like a chrysalis

***
Even as I leaf through other pages,
tiny words like springtails stammering,
Theodora’s gaze fixes on me.

Then Bosch:
Three tiny black swallows, thin veils around turrets,
headless blue flutist, a crying man and pools of women so tiny
you could flick them off your finger….

Skies opening to little avenues of blue light—
there’s one cloud: ghost possum mother,
her whole cloud body a breast
of ether and smoke—.

Even without wind,
translucent veils swimming around
me where I sit. Theodora’s gaze fixed upon me.

***
Black shining black rippled skin there she was –there
resting her small head on the cool pave, her lyrical narrow black body
in the cold gravel, pressed, thinly wound around the stone foundation of the building

where people ate and smoked and painted.

My Snake My Watchfulness
….by the fourth day lightly sleeping,
rippling at my feet as I looked down.

            It was she I wanted to follow—
                                                                   for all my dread—
            not the people.

                                                I rose
            from the Human table
                                                made swift exit

***
Earth Snake was the small-eyed Evening snake, slid
into her hole by the Fence, brown in the brown dirt.

Her response to assault—remain
motionless
or excrete a foul musk.

I’ve seen her door. She lives a meter from me. Small thatch of grass,
dead leaf
at the opening. Red red dirt.

They say she’s dumb. But she hears me moving
toward her—

Alessandra Lynch is the author of five poetry collections. Wish Ave, her most recent book, was published in 2024. Her work has appeared in the American Poetry Review, the New England Review, The Kenyon Review, Ploughshares, and other journals.

Alessandra has been awarded residencies from MacDowell, Yaddo, the VCCA, among others. She has received a Creative Renewal Fellowship and Barbara Deming Award, in addition to the Balcones Prize for her third book. She has been featured as a blogger for Poetry Foundation’s Harriet Books.

Currently, Alessandra serves as Butler University’s poet in residence. Her website is: www.alessandralynch.com