In a house adjacent to shadow,
the caldera surrounding her eyes, is the first to sunset.
Something of a glimmer lingers on the rim
despite the dimness—
late afternoon scouring color from the cups
laid out for tea. A web of pastel veins glows incandescent
as she grips a potholder around the handle to tip the kettle.
Steam rises like a ghost, settles like a balm.
It grows tepid before she drinks.
Only her fingertips gliding above the pour
feel warmth in the cold,
Lorrie Ness is a poet writing in a rural corner of Virginia. When she’s not writing, she can be found stomping through the woods, watching birds and playing in the dirt. Her work can be found in numerous journals, including Palette Poetry and Sky Island Journal. She was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021 and her chapbook Anatomy of a Wound was published by Flowstone Press in July of 2021.