Kristi Cheyney is a native South Floridian, now making her home with her family in Gainesville. When she is not writing she is a college administrator, musician, wife, and mother of 2 little boys. Kristi’s previous publications include short fiction titles, nonfiction book chapters, and articles for magazines and newspapers.
deportation
By Kristi Cheyney
it should be raining
one last day of skies to claim
as ours–hours
midday blaze so fierce I blink
cloudless glass blown blue above
deny. accept. be
my walking stick at dusk, love
lead me through the close
painting dreams in splintered beams
layered pigments gray to black
one night. one night. one
gasp of delicate darkness
lasts and lasts for now
spurn the stars, their place so fixed
for with each flare my touch fades
squalls of morning gold
steal you from my constancy
skin on skin to air
oxygen we shared now gone
stillness sweet
my breath remains
