Henri Bensussen

When the Forest Opens Up

Woman strides to the dance floor dragging her stiffened
husband more as a prop than a partner, her hips a poem
of motion, six feet of rattler wriggling across the trail
as you step back to watch, a slither from east to west,
from shade to sunshine the way snakes do, when they
warm themselves in the spring, a mambo rhythm.
Maybe you wish you were like that woman,
so sure of herself, as she moves her hips to the beat
of a swing orchestra pounding out hits from the Forties,
brave enough, as the forest opens up, to sway and snake
to the sunny side of nature where the rattlers hang out.

***

Henri Bensussen’s poems and stories have appeared in various journals, incl. Eclipse, Blue Mesa Review, Sinister Wisdom, and others, and in the anthologies, Beyond the Yellow Wallpaper: New Tales of Madness, and Lisa Locasio, ed., Golden State 2017. A chapbook of poems, “Earning Colors,” was published by Finishing Line Press in 2015. She has a B.A. in Biology and is a survivor of a Colrain Poetry Conference.

A Literary Magazine

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