Poetry - Issue 10 | September 2010

Two poems by Rebecca Foust


Listen

to the slow, savage seep
of earthly beauty, cricket
cadence swelling soft dusk,
rain-stick stutter of seeds
incanting a monsoon memory,
its long, slow surge. 

Wade waist-deep into a lake
in equal parts wet and white
moonlight. Meaning: the light
comes from neither water
nor moon, but reflects
a reflection. Unbolted satin
shimmers pale furlongs,
less sui generis than the idea
of itself; homage to homage,
song to mirage, to mist recalling
its past as water brimming
a great, ancient ocean,

the mystery of Fibonacci’s
crystalline series, of diatoms
fletched and fluted
like snowflakes, of one
pale, pink, whiskered fish.

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About the author

Rebecca Foust’s recent poetry appears widely in journals including Hudson Review, Margie, North American Review, and Spoon River Review. These poems will appear in God, Seed (Tebot Bach Press, September 2010). Visit her here.

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