Two Poems by Anne-Adele Wight


and a darkness
we know nothing about
surrounds us with cold
so we try to warm it
like tigers patrolling the hallway
with a call-and-response chant
in far north language
outside a Wedgwood blue dome
but after twelve nights
chanting into this darkness
we know nothing about
the pole shuts off its lights
now the aurora turns in seasick orbit
between Mars and Jupiter
bruised by hurtling asteroids
if you listen you can barely
hear its choking cry


Cat Sitting

Schrodinger’s cat rubs my legs
in a perfect circle
never question the means of magic
or a cat’s mastery
of 360 degrees
woven in place I can’t move
inside a circle half bright half dark
but only will the cat
when it stops winding
to come to rest on the bright side
wondering what might happen
if it lay across the center line
erasing itself by halves


Anne-Adele Wight is the author of An Internet of Containment, The Age of Greenhouses, Opera House Arterial, and Sidestep Catapult, all from BlazeVOX. Her work has been published internationally in print and online. She lives and writes in Philadelphia.

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