Mary and Martha

Devon Balwit

You feather-tickle away the day while I strap myself in. Belt upon belt, past the last hole, to where buckle bites skin. You laugh, skirt breeze-gusted, sunlight always saving itself for you, honey in the comb. Lips pursed, I pinch shadows. Streak rivulets, fog glass. You pay me no mind, your head ringing carillon. Bright, bright. I squint to take you in.


Devon Balwit is a teacher/poet from Portland, OR. She has two chapbooks: how the blessed travel (Maverick Duck Press) & Forms Most Marvelous (forthcoming with dancing girl press). Her work has found many homes, some of which are: The Inflectionist Review, The Cincinnati Review, The Stillwater Review, Sierra Nevada Review, Red Earth Review, Timberline Review, Glass: A Journal of Poetry

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