Bio
Mary McColley is a writer and poet originally from Maine. She has wandered and worked for a number of years in France, Thailand, and Palestine. Her pastimes include killing lobsters and selling street art.
Mary McColley
Interlude
in a room white as a wedding-dress i lay
watching sky trains fly beneath
empires of cloud, and ravens, ever-awed,
beaks gaping, hungry for the world. there's a
cheap ring scabbing to pink on my hand, monk's blessing
fraying in a pale strand on my wrist.
mute bones shambled on a bed i corrode in an afternoon
i want ended, a night i have no patience for, a morn to quell.
i walk the roadsides: eyes roving threaded jasmine, split bamboo
with a heart of rice, steel flash of knife on papaya, the pirouette
of skewered meat, an excavation of jackfruit. too much
to sustain me, not enough to speak of;
my languages have run through my fingers' sieves,
empty-palmed from sun to moon.