Joanne Lowery




Swooning

 


For as long as the cicada crescendos

I hold my breath. It ratchets higher

sizzling the treetops while my face turns purple

until the song deflates and fizzles,

my lungs in synchrony with an aria

that's abdominal, the self-promotion

and celebration of August's royal sun.

Then we rest and I chuff-chuff to redden

my mammalian blood. It pauses

but soon gears up again to pierce the afternoon

with a machine gun of summer glory.

I inhale, fail to imitate. I adore.






Joanne Lowery's poems have appeared in many literary magazines, including Birmingham Poetry Review, Briar Cliff Review, Slant, Cottonwood, and Poetry East. She lives in Michigan.









                                    

 

Home
Current Issue
Submissions
Contributors' Notes


Email this poem Printer friendly page

A CLOSER LOOK: D. Nurkse

Morgan Bazilian

Jeffrey P. Beck

Anne Bryant

Grace Cavalieri

Norma Chapman

Joan Colby

Amber Rose Crowtree

Stephen Devereux

Chidsey Dickson

Alixa Doom

Kimberly Glanzman

Jane Ellen Glasser

Taylor Graham

Alicia Hoffman

Sonja James

Michael Lauchlan

Mercedes Lawry

J.T. Ledbetter

Hailey Leithauser

Hailey Leithauser interviews Averill Curdy

Steven Levery

Lyn Lifshin

Joanne Lowery

Michael H. Lythgoe

Janet McCann on Barbara Crooker

Judith McCombs

John McKernan

Roger Mitchell

Charles Patrick Norman

Simon Perchik

Perry L. Powell

Stephen S. Power

Oliver Rice

W.M. Rivera

William Ruleman

Sherod Santos

Anjali Angelika Sarkar

Ed Shacklee

Matthew Buckley Smith on Averill Curdy

Noel Smith

A.B. Spellman

Robert Joe Stout

More

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

       

 

 

 

 

 


Last Updated: Feb 22, 2020 - 12:30:13 PM

Copyright 2005 - 2020 Cook Communication.