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The Web, One Throne Magazine

"Night on Desert" by Dominika Aniola.
© Please do not reproduce without artist's permission.

by Lesley-Anne Evans


This is what I want to say

in the incremental darkness,

in this ease of speech waiting

for our eyes to adjust. You know

the way daylight burns off sound

as it leaves the throat, but night

gives purple shadowed invitations

to light feet

and the opening blooms

of midnight speech. Dry wind

carries word from

mesa crest to the gullied floor

in a desert place

that holds liquid silver.


Here in the welcoming un-dark

we unfurl to moon moisture,

stretch slick over topics, tremble

with ears perked and turning

to possibility on wings, spliced cries

of what must be said or swallowed whole.

We cauterize wounds by laying on hands

under moon’s pale benediction,

a communion of common flesh.


Dawn rises dry eyed,

its breath parching

the bloodied ground,

our nocturnal conversation

like a desert creature, scurried

into day, settled into silence.

Lesley-Anne Evans is Belfast born, Toronto raised, and lives in Kelowna, B.C. with her husband, three children, and dog. Her poetry appears in The Antigonish Review, CV2, UBCO’s Lake, Ascent, Sage-ing, Quills, an Oak Leaflet, and a Leaf Press collection edited by master poet Patrick Lane.

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