obverse to breeze,
the curtains wince.
linen, and in
of a stitch
of tense pattern passes
into a single
outside a boy lights carbon snakes
which evolve together as one tear
catches another on a face
(a snake is anything that curls
its own recoil
like the feet of a wicked witch
under any house that falls on it.
Michelle Gil-Montero is a graduate of Brown University and, in 2007, the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. Her poems have appeared recently in Colorado Review, Third Coast, and Cincinnati Review. She also translates contemporary Latin American poetry, and her translations have appeared in Conjunctions, Circumference, Cipher, Jacket, and other journals.