The crisp shadow
of the chain-link fence
scallops the sidewalk
into the perfectly even,
orderly scales
of a round-eyed fish,
gliding with a flip
of its fanned-out tail
across the foxed
and freckled page
of a medieval book
encased in a vitrine
in the dimly lit gallery
where we gazed at it
together, and do you see now
how every thought I have
circles round and spirals in,
like an ammonite,
with you, vanishing,
in the centre?
Laura Hannett carries on her quest for the right words in Central New York. Recent poems have appeared in Right Hand Pointing, Penstricken, Eternal Haunted Summer, and Amethyst Review. Origami Poems Project has published two of her micro chapbooks. laurahannettpoetry.wordpress.com.