Diaphanous and hardworking.
Sometimes folded over at the edges.
Tucked and sewn in small stitches.
Transparent and larger than the body.
From behind black windows
a fog has settled on these roads.
It lifts before I am ready. I wait
at the window. They crest the hill.
Don’t tell me you can’t see them.




____

Liane Tyrrel is a visual artist and poet. Her poems have been included or are forthcoming in: The Shore, EcoTheo Review and JMWW among others. Her prose poem “Spontaneous Combustion” was nominated for Best Short Fictions 2021. She lives and walks with her dog in the woods and fields of NH. https://www.lianetyrrel.com/