Angie Macri
Spiral

The night sky, a chart of stars,
were positions silver and gold, the work
of men’s hands who took
the ore with fire
into purity. The girl
slammed the door
as if no one was sleeping,
not speaking, repeating
with her spiral arms,
and the boy held the torn
edge of the map he’d drawn,
colors hot
as the girl’s words
which slowly turned
in her skull burning a hole
in her head the size of the ocean.
The boy slammed
the door against the wall
since no one was speaking, following
her lead as he had
from the beginning, even crawling,
and the girl, lost
in her thoughts, didn’t stop
to look at the map
or the sky to see
where they were going.

Angie Macri is the author of Underwater Panther (Southeast Missouri State University), winner of the Cowles Poetry Book Prize, and Fear Nothing of the Future or the Past (Finishing Line). Her recent work appears in The Journal, Quiddity, and The Southern Review. An Arkansas Arts Council fellow, she lives in Hot Springs. Find her online at angiemacri.wordpress.com.