by Alex Stolis
I fold your face.
A thousand intricate lines,
an origami portrait.
numb caverns washed
clean and light.
Take it out
shiny with bitter air.
Unpack it carefully, listen,
Listen to the cool
fingers of the moment,
wrap my eyes
in the linen of your face.
Alex was born and raised in Minnesota, he left his career two years ago to
return to school and play stay at home dad to his two children and his two
black labs. He also works full-time in the evenings as a janitor. He writes
mostly when he should be eating or sleeping. Recent publications include
Black Bear Review, Stirring, Unwound, Poetry Motel and Nerve Cowboy. He is
also Associate editor of Samsara Quarterly.
E-mail Alex at: LexStolis@aol.com