Out of the Gate

      by Judy Halebsky


I have breathed into a thousand balloons

put my fingers in so many cakes

had my body scanned with fingerprints

wrote out my dreams in lines of the night

traced words into storm clouds

mixed water with mint and bourbon

made a bed of spidering vines

wore a wreath of grass cuttings

a raft of stickseed

there’s a snail who thinks he’s climbing Mount Fuji

the racetrack is filled with stars


From Space/Gap/Interval/Distance, San Francisco: Sixteen Rivers Press, 2012, page 11.