View from

That Wind

(Collab Media)

“Night’s ink congeals on rice, coating peas/like black sea pebbles glistening in the harrowed/moonlight staring through the shattered kitchen window.”

Santa Ana rattles the eaves, jolting and crashing

branches, edges sharp, scraping bark off the oak trunk

flying straight into the bricks like a suicide

bomber. Eviscerated, the home is smeared and splattered.

Pellets of fur furious shards of left-over chard

burning. Breadsticks thick in tar like molasses soften

and sink into quicksand dragging broken coffee

mugs and cindered white pressed linens. Charred tea

leaves and blasted blankets blow and billow, soot falls

catching for an instant on my lashes before

collecting in fragile piles beneath my eyes

and on my trembling shoulders. Mourning snow.

Curdled mother’s milk ripples barren. Arid cold

fails at ice. Night’s ink congeals on rice, coating peas

like black sea pebbles glistening in the harrowed

moonlight staring through the shattered kitchen window.


Françoise Nieto-Fong is a poet, podcaster, and film producer constantly traveling the world writing in different languages. She has an MFA from Mount Saint Mary’s University in Los Angeles and an undergraduate degree from Cornell University.

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