What darkness holds – Twila Newey

breath—slowed down—
two closed eyes, times three billion

            six fans ticking round
            three clocks, four beats slow

                        due to moon. one moon
                        twenty-nine and a half views.

one whole—yellow or white or rose or blue—
one disappearance, the rest broken

            as an open mouth mid-snore.
            seven million golden-eyed owls

                        who knows their countless sound?
                        a rustle and scatter of leaves

death equals dinner sometimes—
grass, string, feather—sometimes fire

            multiplies by lightening meeting ground
            ten thousand times makes a complex

                        smoke seeps through cracks swallows
                        stop singing—a little ache in the throat—

plus the odd dose of dread
elsewhere, but close,

            an ocean pulled infinite—
            waves give themselves to shore.
Twila Newey

Twila Newey received her M.F.A. in Writing and Poetics from Naropa. You can find her poems at Radar Poetry and Juxtaprose Magazine, among others. “Sylvia”, her first novel, was published this year. Twila is a poetry editor for Psaltry & Lyre. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area.

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