Clouds
By Claudia Kessel
Flying 35,000 feet above the Atlantic
Where do they go
the dreams of the dead?
slippery squeals of children – grown, lost, abandoned
mucoused demon tentacles clutching the ankle
brittle scrape of an angry father’s fork against the dinner plate
a lover’s moist, crimson kiss
on an elm-shadowed bench in the park’s hidden corner:
warm beast of the tongue, intimacy of neck, lips at the earlobe
bleary nuzzle and stroke, ending in tangled tropics of damp sheets
do they drift from cemeteries
rise as vapor from rotting bodies, no longer bodies
at the hour of death
when exhaled
from the heart’s crevices?
do they float skyward
all cerulean breath and helium
congeal here
in the cloud’s billowing masses
creased with rose, strewn with indigo,
in the forever sunlight?
Bio: Claudia Kessel works as a grant writer in Williamsburg, Virginia and is pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing at Old Dominion University. Her poetry has been published in Richmond Magazine, in the 2024 Poetry Society of Virginia anthology, and in various literary journals including Ekstasis, Arkana, The Dewdrop, The Ekphrastic Review, The Write Launch, Literary Mama, and Lullwater Review. Read more at www.claudiakessel.com.
