Issue 11 – Winter 2006 – Della Watson

Della Watson


as vesicle soul could burst,

i chance my body to a vary

a wary phase, eyes, yes   yes,


(my god expands within)

 my phantasm, my whim,

 would, by cell, be made

from:  me                                                     your vane



to:  precipitation

the earth is all surface.  i shall drink from your lake.  see.  what pooled want would not be 
used.  catherine as she laps the cup, oh how she grows.  my pine pulls you through the 
roots, my arms inch up and up.  a bird builds a nest.  we sleep the night you pound.

the sun-dries

from:  me




my slink hope put to bed.  i shall slough my dress, 
find within a will, a smoothened stone.  here a gill 
become a lung, a leg, a call to my window.

i shall know from what bed this slip comes.

we are not given a return.

it was–




Della Watson’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in Limestone, Make, The Hat, Denver Quarterly, eye~rhyme, alice blueelimae, and word for / word.