Dahlia Japanese Fan
the man’s cassock moved in closer,
skirting relic hours without the moxie
of her fingertips or mercurial flutters
of a dahlia Japanese fan searing
saline beads pensile on its woodsy ribs—
Koi geta beneath pale arches swept
the rice-straw tapestry of her lantern-lit
boudoir, fingers kissed Kimono blue,
cedar tongue on honeylocust song,
she was an energy the likes of a blue-billed
starling’s tweet lulling froth of cream at
the grave monastic sitting in repose
with economy of lines, his hot Sake mouth
sipped piety from her seduction’s carafe—
The Headlong Fall into a Mason Jar
When I fell a century
too late into a jar of fireflies,
the rain picked through an early
rainbow and the trees broke
like stilettos sticks.
My bones sat neat on pale cluster
of stones, though fingers
twitched to feel the crest of glass,
to mark the veins as deftly
as did the fireflies.
When I grew a decade
too soon into a flimsy pine with
my needled grains exposed,
stumps cracked between earth and
sky where the burnt edges of
my body grew through fluid and
mélange of arthritic memories.
Eyes wide then roots constricted,
I held pliant along the rifts on glass,
shadows cast over black-flame
of dying fireflies.
A Pushcart nominee, Lana Bella is the author of two chapbooks, Under My Dark (Crisis Chronicles Press, 2016) and Adagio (Finishing Line Press, forthcoming), and has had poetry and fiction featured in over 280 journals, including 2River, California Quarterly, Chiron Review, Columbia Journal, Poetry Salzburg Review, San Pedro River Review, The Hamilton Stone Review, The Ilanot Review, The Writing Disorder, Third Wednesday, Tipton Poetry Journal, and Yes Poetry, among others.