IT’S LATE AUTUMN AND
THE FEW LEAVES LEFT
CLINGING TO THE TREES
BEG TO BE PULLED OFF
by Danielle Hanson
On TV the B-movie actress
is plucking more from the man’s lips than the sound,
she wants to steal the leaf
from his inner-most tree with her tongue.
But her acting skills won’t cover it.
She’s too preoccupied with the man
from the bar last night who got her drunk,
left her with a wrong number and the check.
She stood in the predictable rain, 4 AM,
with more clothes than she wished to be wearing.
So what she’s wanting is not only the soul’s leaf
but to take the skin as well as the clothes
off the man now in front of her.
In the background there’s a print of Dali’s
“As a Child, I Lifted the Skin of the Sea
to Uncover a Dog Sleeping.” She knows
what else is under those waves.
She’s scared the hidden earth and all its baggage
will crush the rented set and her thin
life’s plot will show.
It’s too late.
That earth is already there. It was there before.
The Indian mound-builders from set 37 brought it.
Even without ever seeing the film, they know bad acting.
Danielle Hanson received her MFA in creative writing from
Arizona State University and now lives in Atlanta, Georgia. Her
work has appeared in more than forty journals and anthologies
including Hubbub, Iodine, Rosebud, Poet Lore, Asheville Poetry
Review, and Blackbird. She has edited Hayden’s Ferry Review,
worked for The Meacham Writers’ Conference, and been a
resident at The Hambidge Center. Currently, she is on the editorial
staff for Loose Change Magazine.
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Apple Valley Review:
A Journal of Contemporary
Volume 10, Number 2
Copyright © 2015
by Leah Browning, Editor.
All future rights to material
published in the Apple
Valley Review are retained
by the individual authors