Grasshopper

Walk the path all night as the sky fills with fireflies

A moth greets you when you reach the porch steps

Sensibility of sorrow rearranged sensibility of soul burn

Sensibility of since you were gone and since you came back

Sensibility of tongue and throat and vibration

Sensibility of the busted wall singing

Sensibility of brightness just as it turns to sunlight

Childhood is an old doorway

Childhood is music in the background

That can’t quite be identified childhood is the grasshopper

Disappearing into the field of oblivion

Andrea Syzdek received her MFA from the University of Houston. She currently writes independently for her website Against the Grain (andreasyzdek.com) which focuses on book reviews and essays.

Two Sonnets

The Sound of Many Birds

Repeat the dream of running away to a field

Kneel down inside that wild cosmic flicker

Deer leap from the woods at the edge of seduction

Mirror lined with candles flickering pale gold

Return to the full moon and rain pouring under it

Vulgar is the trajectory your tongue follows

Return to roads evening out across green hills

Night blooming jasmine at your feet

Only the swan you once were can play

Sexual hymns you wrote secretly in another life

Bring light into the void blurred but ecstatic

Lead the way to zest in the wild grass

Crush bits of magic fear is not the bloom

Mercy flickers when you open the door

Water’s Surface

Nakedness you face when you face your reflection

A haunted ghost that disappears into an unknown garden

Always washed clean until she becomes dirty again

A fork in the trail points in neither direction

Watches you watch the wind nearing a desire

Fresh and vibrant and holy and imperfect and balanced

Words you haven’t wrestled yourself free from yet

That bird and her solid repetitive song emerges

When you thought she wanted to stay invisible

Flying low to the ground in the aftermath of the

Microscopically changed riverwild dream

You rock in your arms by the light of the full moon

Where the fish kisses the water’s surface

Where the water’s surface kisses the fish back