I drove into the wall just to feel something
concrete. My sedan erupted into a darkening
field, where purple loosestrife begged
for wind. Paranoid drained of body,
who else is there to stand on?
I stand to agree with soil— We miss
our wetness and are sick of waiting for beetles
to come and hum I’m sorry, so sorry for disturbances
of your ground.
All around me metal scraps tell the stars
to change ways, de construct cross-stitched beauty
petal by petal to not forget the roots. What’s been
broken: sand stone water. Goodbye,
goodbye bones sew your own holes while I
invade the wind.
Christine Ella Aletti holds in MFA in Poetry from Sarah Lawrence College and has taught writing to at-risk youths in both New York City and Florida. Currently, she sells pest elimination services for a large corporate conglomerate, which causes anguish when she considers a possibility of a Buddhist rebirth. Her work can be found at christineella.net.