In a row like that, they look like a painting,
the books, an abstract about liveliness,

delicacy (colors, textures). In all my time
—trying so hard to be both those things—
to find I am not (except for those

few undocumented moments of
human wholeness,
which, because no one can assert them,
of course are made of magic).

Lying alone below the sky, sometimes
you feel inspiringly small. Like
there are forces above you, about you,

and there are. The books all in a row, and I am
watching, mouth open, as if to speak.

Allison Leigh Peters won an Academy of American Poets Prize in 2010. Her work has appeared in the Michigan Quarterly Review, Burner Magazine, Up the Staircase, Connotation Press, WomenArts Quarterly, Oberon Poetry Magazine, Third Wednesday, Avatar Review, and elsewhere.