Poems of the Week – Julie Doxsee


Your Dry-Eye Curse

Because that cloud
I’m pointing to has been raining on my town
six years straight

it’s not the weight of the
house affecting
my disappearance into
mud. You’d
sink when the part of
our body that is legs
takes charge.



Achilles on the moor
sees a rash of footprints

followed by a

collage of peafowl.

Not so pinheaded
to count

flaws of the

wing. One only. Out of
eighty birds.

Cavalry, bring

out your ponies for little old
me. Pie cools, falcons loop-to-loop

either with or against the thrust.


Roped-Off Gravity

A glint of blue

butterflies its way
across the

throats of seven

A wheel is

the forwardness
we thought

emerged only as


* all poems from undersleep, Octopus Books, 2008.

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