Motes at Play in the Halls of Light
by Devon Balwit
We always glance slantwise at beauty, turning
to it our Janus-faced wonderment and envy,
wanting to be of and in the light but dragged
downwards by cracked-clay heaviness, a base
that can only hold the glowing filament, so easily
jarred to breaking. See the eyes, shadow-traced,
refracted into panes? Each holds the painter’s
palette, the aperture, the pen—missals to summon
the muse, nets to trawl for awe. We must catch
the spilling while we’re quick. We won’t be long.
Bio: Devon Balwit is a poet and educator from Portland, Oregon. She has a chapbook, Forms Most Marvelous, forthcoming from dancing girl press (summer 2017). Her recent poems can be found in: Oyez, The Cincinnati Review, Red Paint Hill, The Ekphrastic Review, Noble Gas Quarterly, Timberline Review, Trailhead Magazine, Vector, and Permafrost.
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