by Fabrice Poussin
I broke a soul once
Upon a fall from grace.
Pieces of a spirit scattered all about the pond
Frantically seeking their kin from the tone of
I broke my soul once
And felt no pain.
I thought I saw a body hover above a shadow
A jigsaw inform of wavy shapes in two dimensions
Lost in space.
I broke that soul once
As if a diamond upon a rock.
It was a dream, hoping to rid the self of a mirror
Too faithful an image of what others could read
In an open tome.
I dropped a soul again
Not sure it was mine on the fire.
It lay there in a puddle of crimson tears pleading
For an overdue reconciliation with another
Below the tree.
She found her soul at last
While looking for a fruit to life.
And she met his gaze as she stood for the catch
Shining with the glow of eternity in the infinite sky
She closed her eyes.
Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.
by Fabrice Poussin
Once more she stands in the face of another soul
the smooth surface of century old looking glass
squinting at fragments of a self once whole.
The pulses in her breast beat inside the thin vessels
hovering timidly in the burning light of summer’s heat
she grasps only shards of her former thoughts.
when, little girl she pondered no such queries.
She may be that forgotten Renaissance girl in the attic
put to canvas by a hopeful lover from a distance
her fair complexion torn by the craquelure
at the jigsaw she has become to suspect so well.
Where does she begin, where are the boundaries
of so many parts in motion as she sits in fearful awe
sharp edges of the giggling teen she once was
cut deep at the dreams of a future she once fathomed.
Even the sorrow of a tear venturing down her lip
seems to break apart thus devoid of source or intent
her pain excruciating must remain hidden in her chest.
She is the kaleidoscope of her many dawns
a universe hoping to come together in a grand home
made of walls seamless of like a marble giant
idea of the child building days of carefree wisdom.
Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and dozens of other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review and more than 350 other publications.