Poetry
Ice Storm Kristi Wilson
It froze
and refroze, as glacial
ice, an almost-blue anomaly,
hard, unforgiving, smothering
everything but a few proud blades
of grass, green but withered,
that rose
as if in defiance of so many
seasons. The reasons are as clear
as ice, yet still the bulbs are stubborn
and shove their stalks through so much
mud, through wasted soil thick with clay
and say, we will grow here.
It goes
without saying, as so many
things, that spring will crack
the freeze with fists of flowers
and blustering lust. But here,
now, feels like an eon, an age,
as ceaseless and biting as silence.
In Retrospect Kristi Wilson
The first mistake was saying it more than once, and then again; then pretending to ignore the heat growing in your groin, the way you watched me with firm intent as I traced my waist with absent-minded motion and lay there breathing about those greasy sheets. The greatest came in admitting you, brash as Priapus, a few bold thrusts of moist absolution, unfitting end for so much treachery, unfitting flesh leeching life between these seasoned thighs. It was folly, really, to smile secretly as bruises shone back in amethyst amazement.
Kristi Wilson is a senior English major at UTA. She has been writing poetry since high school. Her work has appeared in Zephyr (a journal previously published by UTA's Sigma Tau Delta) and in the now defunct blood & feathers magazine.
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