about the author

Ivy Grimes has an MFA from the University of Alabama. She has work published in The Cimarron Review, Euphony, Word Riot, The Associative Press, Weave, WomenArts Quarterly Journal, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, [PANK], Barn Owl Review, DIAGRAM, and elsewhere. She recently started a blog of poetry challenges where she asks people for a topic/word they think it will be impossible for her to write a poem about. Once she writes it, she gives it back to the person for review. She does this at: poemchallenges.blogspot.com.

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Ivy Grimes

Nothing is fair, nothing is pale,
the oak wears pearl clasps
in its thin hair.
It bends to lift me, shifts to stand,
and lets me feel how cold.
Slick branches, I slip through
and catch before the crack
sometimes, and sometimes
my body is vapor, the heat’s
long hair, and sometimes my skin
is disappearing, and sometimes
my skin is whispering,
and sometimes I fall.

Between ordeals,
the snow
is the sky’s collarbone.

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