Avalon Felice Lee
Aubade to San José
& I must go now.
But dusk reclaims the hours
and you catch me
in your palms; rinse my ears
with an ancestor fable
about a caped girl lost,
how a wolf’s mandible clapped faster
than a bullet learned its wings.
& I am back in your palms.
I cast an iris beyond the knuckle roof
to watch the lone firefly flicker
out of your reach.
In my months as your secret,
these hands kneaded avenue chalk
through your belly, and if you must
know one thing, know this:
they were not stretch marks
but a continent of elms.
But dusk reclaims the hours
and you catch me
in your palms; rinse my ears
with an ancestor fable
about a caped girl lost,
how a wolf’s mandible clapped faster
than a bullet learned its wings.
& I am back in your palms.
I cast an iris beyond the knuckle roof
to watch the lone firefly flicker
out of your reach.
In my months as your secret,
these hands kneaded avenue chalk
through your belly, and if you must
know one thing, know this:
they were not stretch marks
but a continent of elms.
Biography
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Avalon Felice Lee is an Asian American Californian. Her work is published or forthcoming in Right Hand Pointing, American High School Poets National Poetry Quarterly, Plum Recruit Mag, The Aurora Review, The Foredge Review, and elsewhere. You can find her and her kitten, Esky, on Instagram at @avalonfelicelee.
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