Natalie Stevenson




Antonio’s Lament

I’ll never understand why you
These feeble imitations, which
Combust like embers lost and found;
They burn
Upon a moonscape made of mud.
Except for the occasional fizzle, we
Vent steam
At one another’s faults like dragons
Lighters, teaching ourselves to hear
The noise
But not the meaning underneath.
It claws
Out of its skin if prodded gently,
At eggshells, and expanding
Like smoke
In a sky full of wind.




Natalie Stevenson studies literature at Sarah Lawrence College.  She has been published in The Oxford Student, Coffeehouse, and The Cliffhanger.

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