Frances Boyle

scorned as timber beloved of the sky        

exhausted gravity unfurls its wings, lifts and falls
plastic. plaster flies, sun is down & out late fall

asphalt & concrete landscape, no soil. swings
not childsafe, she goes on hopelessly about falls

white hailstones and clouds torn from sky
black magnified hum of waterfalls.

celebration easier if you believe in sacred flesh,
breathe the difference, loose coat insideout falls.

hollow snowdrift shadows swagger and splosh
Em tells her shed the doubt, it can make you fail.

Frances Boyle is the author of two books: a novella, Tower, and Light-carved Passages, a poetry collection. A second poetry book is forthcoming in 2019. Her work has appeared in literary magazines and anthologies throughout Canada and in the U.S. Visit her at .