by Natalie Homer
after a sculpture by Arran Gregory, 2014

If the forest had a uvula, static, speechless
this would be it.

The self     reflected         of course.

Low-hanging fruit made of chrome metal, steel wire.
Gentle mobile, raw diamond, you disco-shine.

Will each facet gather pollen?
A fine yellow film of dust?
Your cold face needs a cloth.

Beautiful manufactured loneliness,
are you a beacon in a fairytale?
The last pure thing to lead us home?

Natalie Homer is an MFA candidate at West Virginia University. Her poetry has been published or is forthcoming in The Pinch, The Lascaux Review, Ruminate, Salamander, Bellevue Literary Review, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and others. She received an honorable mention for poetry in the 2017 AWP Intro Awards.