Waterfall, shape unknown, falls through long grass
which side we can’t tell of the brown inter-village
roads that barracuda through that tall, dry stuff.
White probably at its feet on stones; stone-small
like a song two rooms away or a pearl in the ear.
The topmost snags and the wrinkles of the crown
purpled in hexagons sifted from distorted sun and in
the glassy air a thousand thousand snaps of blue
where mediums disintegrate and mediums become.
B. T. Joy is a British poet and short fiction writer living in Glasgow. He has also lived in London, Aberdeen and Heilongjiang, Northern China. His poetry and short fiction have appeared in magazines, journals, anthologies and podcasts worldwide, including poetry in Yuan Yang, The Meadow, Toasted Cheese Literary Journal, Numinous: Spiritual Poetry, Presence, paper wasp, bottle rockets, Mu, Frogpond and The Newtowner, among many others. His debut collection of poetry, Teaching Neruda, was released in 2015 by Popcorn Press and his 2016 collection Body of Poetry is also available through Amazon. He can be reached through his website: http://btj0005uk.wix.com/btjoypoet.