Rush me with the mouth-flood
of heavy tongue-pool rain
in April when the sky is green.
Snap my weakest boughs, crown
the splinters in clear pearls.
Cast shattered circles in each sphere,
rings repeating, upside-down.
Wash each year into the Sound—
ring, upon ring, upon ring, upon
Lynne Ellis writes in pen. Her words appear in WA 129 (Sage Hill Press) and are read aloud on Mondays at open mics around Seattle. She was a finalist for the 2017 Letheon Poetry Prize (Anesthesiology). As a master electrician, lighting designer, and member of IATSE Local 15, Lynne has supported live theater for over two decades. She continues to try to bring poetry to the catwalks and craft to the page.