Elizabeth Diebold

Aesthetics of flight

             A woman crouched naked by a stream 

is a certain kind of animal—a jut of bone, 

                       a grass blade’s width,           
  
          she is fearsome, a vision, wind’s fury

through a house laid bare. What now, 

                       what now? is her pounding heart’s 

            mantra. A hunger with no appetite blooms

in her frantic mouth, in her frantic mouth she swears

                      nothing to no one, a jumble

            of radiance & tears, everything so unreal

it all feels even more alive—the richness of such

                      days so tremendously  

            chaotic, as if colors could be heard 

and sounds had taste, as if floating 

                     on her back staring up into shambles  

            of clouds could mean a readable map 

were part of this charade—having no idea where

                    she’s going, only knowing 

            where she’s not. She’s unbelievable, 

all starts & stops.  Her recklessness scares me.  

                    The place to place is killing me 

            inside. I want to drive the car 

to empty just to know what

                    being saved is like. 

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Elizabeth Diebold’s poetry appears in 32 Poems, North American Review, and Poetry International, among others. She lives in Grafton, VT, and is in the final stages of completing her first full-length collection.