FNS: Blueswoman Morning from Susan Spilecki

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Every Friday night we will feature a short story, essay, personal narrative,
poem, spoken word, or short film for your enjoyment.

Helen Presents: a poem from Susan Spilecki


Only her mornings wear nothing
blue. Her narrow bed cooling
wears grandma’s quilt with crimson
triangles, ocher diamonds, squares
of green and ivory. The night sky sweeps
all colors into navy heaps
on her bed, awaiting her smoky
return, thump of guitar, darker
blue piles of clothes, boots shed
like heavy leaves. The nights keep passing.
The quilted ivory shines yellow
beneath this dawn window. Even
the scarred oak bookcase glows
like the gold in her dreams,
gold light from a thousand
blinding suns above the stage.
The ceiling lets shadows drop
carelessly away as morning pushes
the oceanic cheers from her ears,
through her hair loosely braided
with dreams, auburn, still
burning from sleep. All afternoon
indigo, chicory. All night, midnight sky
behind stars. Blue flame roars,
engulfing everything. She plays
hard, stoking it. Soon, soon,
even her mornings will blaze.


Susan Spilecki teaches writing at MIT and Northeastern University. Her work has been published in Potomac Review, Princetown Arts Review, Quarterly West and Frontiers. Her first book of poetry, Icons and Action Figures (Batteries Not Included), will be coming out in 2015.

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