Hologram Gaby Bedetti Children drop off the tree and roll away friends spin out of my orbit or die Yet I am not Ronsard’s Helen, a crone bent low in sorrow, nor Yeats’ paltry thing, tattered coat upon a stick –though I apply lipstick to make myself more visible I flicker, an illusion of intersecting light beams, a sum of particles that levitate out of bed and travel through the air giving the impression of a tenured professor A light-filled […] Continue Reading
