i s a b e l    b a l é e

 

 

I JUST


I JUST









































I JUST

 

Short-lived palmate leaves
face down and old
in wet dirt
           their little arbored
dying              it's just 
how people                talk
           it's just how people
Finally russet trees		
                      some
howls come over
           ripples and
you say 
           describe blue  well
how do I respond      it's just
           how people talk          still
enduring a heart	
                      We smudged
contained fire on wood we
copper-leafed 
                      a person
watching their house 
           burn 		
                      Remember 
birds bathing in the next-door 
gutter 		
           and     "why is that better"
it's just

next









































I JUST

 

Have you been dead already too you know this you know what it's like in a body it
            just 
won't move.  
And water glistens a man's benched he's planning Chicago over the phone his face in hand
like hes seen today again and if he talks to me 
                        I laugh
            desperately.
Water explodes East through a bramble and eventually a freeze.
How many omnifold skies eventually emerge in plenty distance
I want to ask you this guess what the water it salts and skids into a froth then eventually
            I'll be afraid 
to walk to really 
            absorb 
                        enough wind

next

ISABEL BALÉE was born in New Orleans and is an MFA candidate at Brown University. Her work has appeared in Thermos, A Bad Penny Review, and Thunderclap.


I S S N     1 5 5 9 - 6 5 6 7