Saturday, December 20, 2014

Haiku by Michelle Villanueva

mother's crinoline
scrapes while she paces these paths
too blistered to fly
prairies built on less
breathe as though sleek hummingbirds
when she wanders past
and the silhouette
I remember twice she called
beyond mere windows
with snow slick as skin
hedgerows our blank crucible
hush the violets
all along the trees
whisper their benediction
they call her starlight

Michelle Villanueva is a student finishing up an MFA in Creative Writing - Poetry at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas.  She is the author of one chapbook, Postcard: Lions (forthcoming 2015, Etched Press), and her poetry has been published in Foothill Poetry Journal, The Tower Review, The Camel Saloon, and other print and online publications.


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