Five poems by Valentina Cano

Modern Woman’s Exercise

 

She jumps through words

like she used to skip rope,

with violent limbs and knotted breath.

She states the obvious with

dashes of those same gasps

which have now lost their platinum flavor.

 

 

 

Southern Hemisphere Frost

 

She was made of earth

baked by a winter’s sun.

The cold light

like glass suspended over grass,

entire fields flattened

by Southern skies.

 

 

 

Kore, In Summer

 

She rounds out her bouquets

with pomegranate flowers

and stuffs her bra with cotton balls.

She is a woman of green shoots,

pollen skin,

and she moves in the summer breeze

like a sheet on a clothesline.

 

 

 

Derailed

 

Losing balance and

toppling out of the

tracks laid

before

The fire of skin peeling backward

as time unwinds and I am back

at the start, blood like

a sheath against my

 

 

 

Captive

 

She folds sheets like she would wings,

tucking them into a smooth line.

She moves through the room

and the scent of burnt feathers,

dry and gray,

screams its way to where he sits.

 

He would like to rip those sheets

out of her hands

and undo the line that tethers her

to the end of his voice.

 

CANOValentina Cano is a student of classical singing who spends whatever free time she has either reading or writing. Her works have appeared in numerous publications and her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Web. Her debut novel, The Rose Master, will be published in 2014.

 

 

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