by Lana Bella

  1. Here, smokestacks choked
  2. soot to black, cleaved you to
  3. shadow where the freight
  4. train swept foghorns out to
  5. sea. A pelican skipped bill
  6. to crown on the pale of light,
  7. storms shook out its beak;
  8. fireflies discoursed through
  9. rocks from each ship hewn-
  10. tide.
  1. Your salamander lungs ached,
  2. turning you a fleeting silk of
  3. liquidity over the trial flights
  4. of logjam weeds, like asphalt
  5. mouth hissed through calving
  6. isles of memory, palpitating
  7. tongue with slugs. Tonight, it
  8. crossed your mind that this
  9. gnarled ecology laying rutted
  10. out in what darkness spared,
  11. was your lips drawn back to
  12. bare the teeth—exhaling snake
  13. of steam.
Packingtown Review – Vol.11, Spring 2019

Lana Bella is an author of three chapbooks, Under My Dark (Crisis Chronicles Press, 2016), Adagio (Finishing Line Press, 2016), and Dear Suki: Letters (Platypus 2412 Mini Chapbook Series, 2016) has had poetry and fiction featured with over 320 journals, 2River, California Quarterly, Chiron Review, Columbia Journal, Poetry Salzburg Review, San Pedro River Review, The Ilanot Review, Third Wednesday, Tipton Poetry Journal, among others. Lana resides in the US and the coastal town of Nha Trang, Vietnam, where she is a mom of two far-too-clever frolicsome imps.

  1. Carlos Hiraldo
    Summers in the UKpoetry