Three Poems


Molly Stern





cold drop, frozen drop



establishing the symmetry of solitude

she makes, she gathers, she heaps up


the frozen drops of its miniscule structure


to measure the geometry of the face

frozen bonds clinging in parallel


a routine dip of the palm as it presses closer

along the reflection of crystal capillaries


she plots a graph for isolation


a net of flat minerals, the close-packed edifice of the macro

in which lies wavelengths, the perfect and complete pattern


from the next point to this, the beams converge

shot through, piercing the atoms of the molecule


a coherent, spatial arrangement of one’s aloneness.








evolved leaves push away

ribs and multipetaled flowers


long dormancy, and then—transpiration at night

the clouds seeding it with their spherical blood.


the globose body is filled with sunken nodes

deep, fertile mounds receiving the tubular ovary


thickened, waiting for it to course up

up columnar branches into the cool dark of evening.


the shadow of spines at sunrise


stilling the air, moisture-packed and pressed close

in the succulent body.


to be nourished within the carpel

to drink the rich liquid at night.








affixed at the primordial root:

clouds, cotyledons, milk


all dense with heaps of oxygenated seed-leafs.


the coldest gravity towers overhead

stacking the sky with its cirrus-like head


currents of these, immense, radiate through zonal tides.


absorption begins, faster than the squall

more night-shining than the streaks of atmosphere


clustered deep in the plumules.


seedful gales waver across this chasm of breath

snake down the incus anchored in total stillness


atmospheric clusters building higher

packing the mesosphere with cloud


whorls of blindness punctuating the nub

stems insinuating darkness as marrow thickens


loads the stems full of twilight.


a parting as the cumulonimbus splits

slicing the protective cup fastened to the wavering planet


the bud opening, noctilucent whirls of ink-dark.









Molly Stern lives in Brooklyn, NY.  Her poetry has appeared in Witness Magazine, So to Speak and The Mays Anthology.



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