A Beast's Light

I watch her in the open fIeld

There is a sound we both hear
like the drawn cries of a sitar
or a distant crackling like a femur
breaking in the grasses

I put my hand into her fur,
deep as it will go

I tell her
it is neither for joy
nor for loneliness
that I sometimes reach my hand
to stir into the blackness between us,
so glistering to touch

It's to burn against the dark star tucked in manna there


The plains were too wide
The fields were too broad
The grasses too far apart

When I woke it was the same,
though at the foot of my bed
two burnished eyes
gave luster through a pelt,
seeing me—

it was a star so near
all the widths
came coursing to a pane
of fat new light

and auroras seemed to limn
her parts:

the snout   the whisker   the haunch

I perceived the black cord of blood
tied behind her eyes

for it seemed lassoed to a bell

whose mouth
was silently ringing—

When I woke again

I looked and looked
as into an infinite series

Stephanie Adams-Santos

Stephanie Adams-Santos is a Guatemalan-American writer, educator, and divination artist from Portland, Oregon. She is the author of Swarm Queen’s Crown (Fathom Books, 2016) and several chapbooks: Total Memory (Finishing Line Press, 2016); Little Fugues (Sola Books, 2015) and The Sundering (Poetry Society of America, 2009).



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