May 2010

A. K. Scipioni


A. K. Scipioni is a graduate of the Iowa Writers' Workshop. Her poems have been published or are forthcoming in Denver Quarterly, 1913, the Literary Review, Columbia Review, Verse, Diagram, Alice Blue, and Verse Daily.

Gonaives, Haiti    

Afterwards children like bells clung
to their insides rather poorly,
unevenly rearranging the equilibrium
as they ran through the muddy
water to find no one had come
for them. They were many things
as they waited in the corners for the men
to remove the facedown woman blooming
florals as she floated in the intersection.



Obelisk of Axum    

Several times during the reclamation,
the cutting part of the wood heaved
an unbounded, glyptic bird of Sumerian
stone. Between two towering Italian pines,
five-thousand ibis lay a bent-legged
deambulatory. Consider the one rule
of the world. A long nylon accord hiked
up the soapstone-face of seventeen-hundred
years and intimate tradition. The day
the Germans removed it from display,
a pregnant woman from Linz slipped and broke
water on the lilies in the garden. Our decision
had been to hand back the acre in the morning.  
Going home had been a different thing.



A. K. Scipioni: Poetry
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