‘Underbelly’ by Annelise Berghenti

Maybe it was the last day after all.
Sunlight slanting through branches in sheets, our throats filled
with moss. You tore ramson from my hands,
    spun water with a stick.

~

Say you remember more than just our bodies
clamouring for release
                           blue nights spent static with fury
Say you remember our limbs
                               tangled like swan necks
Say you do
                  anyway

~

Radio recycling greatest hits. Above us, canopies
                                                and daylight draining out. One star,
then suddenly many.

I can’t think of a field that didn’t make my heart slow
                                                            as it spread itself before us.

From issue #3: autumn/winter 2016

About the Author
Annelise Berghenti is a poetry MFA candidate at Columbia University, New York. She grew up in Dublin, where she studied English at Trinity College.